Intense
by ElvenDestiny
Summary: She couldn’t be his lover, so he tried to convince himself that being her friend was enough. And when she had her heart broken, he tried to be there for her, never mind that his own heart was breaking in the meantime.
1. Envy

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. No copyright infringement intended.

**Chapter 1: Envy**

Chase walked into the Princeton Plains-Borough Teaching Hospital at exactly 6:30 in the morning, for once not quite late or even feeling hurried. In fact, he was wide awake, another oddity, since he generally wasn't at his best in the mornings. Foreman was already there, but House and Cameron were missing. Strange, since House almost always beat them here. Sometimes Foreman even joked that House probably slept here, which couldn't bef that far off the mark.

They walked in together not more than five minutes later, though, and the atmosphere in the room changed entirely. Nothing had really changed over one night, but it was immediately apparent that _something_ had changed. He simply sensed it in some imperceptible way, and a quick glance at Foreman told him that he wasn't the only one. It wasn't the familiar picture of House and the three young doctors that made up his team, anymore. It was a neurologist, an intensivist, and House and his girlfriend.

Last night House and Cameron had gone out on a formal date to some classy and overly expensive Italian restaurant. That in itself wasn't so surprising, despite the fact that a month ago neither Chase nor Foreman could have come close to imagining the two dating. House and Cameron had been together for almost two weeks now, and this was probably their third or fourth date, according to the rumor mill, at least. The only thing that made this one different was that it was just so obvious that they'd shared more than just dinner that night.

It was in the way that Cameron absentmindedly adjusted House's collar. Like a wife or something, Chase thought uncharitably. They might as well have been wearing a sign, 'recently fucked and happy about it' or something. It was in the way that she had a bright, happy _glow _around her, like she was announcing it to the world. Or the casual way House brushed by her, when he ordinarily went to such great lengths to go around anyone just so that he didn't make contact with them.

The potential in the room for an awkward silence was amazing. Foreman exchanged a meaningful look with Chase, clearly finding the whole deal funny, and then seemed a little surprised at the icy glare he got back in return. Chase stood up and grabbed a patient's file, prefparing to leave the room, but he was stopped at the door by Cuddy.

"New case came in," she informed them, handing over a clipboard to House. "The patients are in critical condition and there's two more coming in with the exact same symptoms."

It was enough for them all to pretend that everything was completely normal, but Chase noticed how Cameron gave House a special smile, as if to say, _see, it wasn't so bad_. Not sure whether to be more annoyed with the couple or with himself, he deliberately turned away to Foreman and listened to his fellow doctor debrief them on the patient's condition. He wasn't the kind of guy to mope after some girl that was with someone else. She wasn't for him and he just had to accept it. Even if everything in him was crying out that Cameron didn't belong with _House_ either.

House called for a differential diagnosis, and his elite team, aka the 'ducklings,' responded the way they were supposed to. Chase was momentarily chagrined to find that he'd used that term, even in his thoughts, further evidence that Wilson was rubbing off on him. They tossed around ideas, names of diseases, little facts that seemed irrelevant but could have an impact in some way. The usual competition to find the right treatment preoccupied him enough that he could pretend to himself that he didn't see how Cameron's hand brushed House's, or the way she handed him a cup of coffee.

He was really losing it, if watching her cradling the cup of steaming liquid and then carefully passing it to House seemed to be meaningful on more than one level. Coffee cups and hearts. Perfect symbolism. All his old English teachers would be proud.

The case was an awful one and it was easy to lose himself in the barrage of tests and scans to do. Chase couldn't afford to be distracted when three people's lives were at stake, and they deserved to have a doctor they could depend on. No matter how often his thoughts drifted in that direction, or he found himself watching her covertly, Chase brought himself back to reality with a single-minded determination.

By late morning he was feeling the effects and rather irritable that it was affecting him so much. It didn't help that the first patient's condition had continued to deteriorate and that they still weren't sure what was causing it. They were vomiting blood and losing sensation in their limbs, yet there wasn't anything House and his team could really do. How many times had Chase stood by a patient's bed and watched them die, bit by bit, the will to live struggling against the body's breakdown?

Chase wasn't the least bit hungry when lunchtime rolled around, but he decided that at least he could go out for a breath of fresh air. He was a doctor, it was natural that he should be in a hospital, but sometimes it was a little too much to be constantly surrounded by the sick and dying. Sometimes he woke up and he could still smell the antiseptic soap that they used, that scent that lingered over everything and anything, or maybe it was only in his mind.

The sound of footsteps made him turn around to face the person he last wanted to see. Cameron came empty-handed, probably as disinclined to eat as he was. She looked surprised to see him there, but she gave him a smile anyway. He could see that it was forced; the morning had taken its toll on everyone.

"Anything?"

She shook her head. "No change at all." She was quiet for a moment and then burst out, "Sometimes I just can't stand how—how cold he is with the patient's family. He made the mother cry when he bluntly told her that her daughter was dying. Oh, I know that she would have cried anyway. But he doesn't have to go for the shock effect. He doesn't need to be cruel to others while being cruel to himself. Why does he have to be this way? Can't he just—_change_?"

He didn't bother telling her that she was the only one who still had the idealist's dream of changing House. Didn't bother telling her that if she loved House only because she saw him as a challenge, as someone to 'fix,' like some good-Samaritan project, then she didn't love him at all. Instead, Chase only said, "Do you want him to?"

"Yes…" She had very blue eyes and the color was especially intense now. "No."

"Well, which is it, Cameron?" He said it a little ruthlessly, pushed slightly too far. To be talking to her like he was their relationship counselor or something. Without realizing it, he ran a hand through his hair, and then realized that his hands weren't gloved for once. Even the protection of professionalism had been stripped away.

He remembered the first day she'd come to talk to him about her feelings for House. How much he felt like shaking her, then, telling her she shouldn't go for it. The words had been on his lips, but he'd realized it would only make him lose their friendship. So instead, he'd encouraged her, because it made her happy, and that's what he really wanted, in the end. He wanted to see her smile, even if it wasn't directed at him, but at someone else.

"If I changed him he wouldn't be who he is. But," she bit her lip and turned away so that he wouldn't see her expression, "I don't know how long we can last if he didn't change."

Whatever he might have thought of as a reply to _that_ was cut off by the approach of a nurse. "Dr. Chase! Dr. Cameron! Adeline Smithe is going into convulsions and Dr. House needs you _now_!"

There was just enough time for Chase's eyes to meet Cameron's for a moment before they both set off, personal issues set aside again, similar in their resolve to save a patient's life.

It didn't matter, though. Seven hours later, having stayed later than usual because of the case (it wasn't entirely a joke when Foreman complained of practically living at the hospital) Chase and Cameron faced the parents of Adeline Smithe and expressed their deepest regrets that, unfortunately, their daughter had passed away.

Only one out of the three had survived, in the end. Thirty-three percent, Chase thought tiredly, later. Point three three three... The endless repetition of that awkward statistic seemed mocking. There were days that didn't end well, more days than he really cared to remember. He was glad that Cameron was there to help the parents. And House? He hadn't even stopped by.

He'd felt a wave of anger at that, and looking at Cameron, he saw his feelings reflected in her eyes. House had worked on these patients for over twelve hours but somehow he couldn't have spared a few minutes to come by and face the parents, to express his condolences, whether he really meant them or not. It would have given them that much more comfort. Mr. and Mrs. Smithe needed to know that the doctors had done everything they could to save their child, a young woman only twenty three years old. They needed to know it wasn't some faceless, nameless doctor arbitrarily deciding life or death.

But wasn't that exactly what House did? Chase admired him for his skill and for his dedication. But sometimes it was hard not to wish that House was just a little bit more human. He hid his own pain under his veneer of pretended indifference and his sarcasm, and it was all right—sometimes. Foreman, Chase, even Cameron laughed along with him—sometimes.

Or maybe Chase was just being harsh because he envied him, because Cameron had all but offered House her heart on a silver platter. At least they hadn't left together tonight. It seemed like the day's events had strained their happy, newly-meaningful relationship.

Foreman was gone, House was gone, and that left him and Cameron alone in the room. Despite still not being really in the mood to eat, his body was reminding him that he hadn't fed it anything since twelve hours ago, when he'd grabbed a cup of coffee. Chase took out the sandwich that should've been his lunch and decided to eat before heading home.

"Give me your sandwich?"

"What?" The request, coming out of nowhere, surprised him so much he nearly dropped the food. Chase looked up at Cameron, taken aback. "Why?"

She gave him a look at that reflected more of her old spirit. "Because I'm hungry and I didn't eat lunch."

He looked down at the sandwich and its appealing ingredients and realized he _was _hungry. "No way! Neither did I, so get your own!"

"Fine, be that way," she sulked. Chase blinked, certain that he was seeing or hearing wrong. It must be an effect of fatigue or something, like a hallucination. Cameron could not possibly be looking at him like that, like he'd just stolen candy from a baby or something. The beautiful and intelligent Cameron could not possibly be resorting to _pouting _to get her way, right? And did she really have to look so damned cute even when she was accusing him like that with her eyes?

But the look didn't change and finally he rolled his eyes and relented, barely able to believe Cameron had totally made him defenseless with such childish tactics. "All right, all right. I'll share half with you."

She gave him a smile that told him that she'd been playing him all along, and he gave over half the sandwich with a mock sigh, part of him pleased and part of him exasperated. Why was it that she never picked Foreman or Wilson or, for goodness' sake, even House, her new boyfriend, to victimize?

House. Her new boyfriend. The smile dropped from his face and Chase started eating silently, trying his best to ignore her even though she sat right across the table from him. Cameron looked at him but he was so determined not to make eye contact that she gave up, thinking that he just wanted some time alone after the dismal events of the day. Chase _was_ occupied with his thoughts, but they bore no relationship to the ones she imagined.

It seemed so wrong, somehow, and not just because their personalities were polar opposites or because of the age gap. They wanted different things from it. Cameron wasn't the type to go for a fling, and House obviously wasn't the type to commit. Nothing good would come of it, right? Half the time they had to get on each others' nerves, Cameron being the do-gooder and House, the sarcastic jerk.

But despite all these reasons, deep down Chase had to admit it. There was really nothing wrong with House and Cameron being together except for the simple fact that _he _didn't want them to be together. In fact, he didn't want Cameron with anyone, period. He'd even hoped that she wouldn't be from the very first time, despite how Cameron had treated him with a cool, almost cold professionalism during their brief conversation.

He had tried unsuccessfully to deny it for a long time, but there came a point when the futility of trying to lie to himself made it worse. The plain truth was, he wanted Cameron for himself and he was only so irked because he was going crazy…being jealous of House.

xxxxx

**Please review! **Just realize that this story was written before many things happened onscreen, so there will obviously be some differences. However, hopefully it stays true to the characters and believable as an alternate scenario. _Thanks – E.D._


	2. Anniversary

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter 2: Anniversary**

The third time Cameron exited the room abruptly and came back with suspiciously dark eyelashes, Foreman gave him an eloquent look over their unconscious patient. "What do you suppose is the big deal? It can't be House."

"How would I know?" Chase retorted. "It's none of our business. Just leave her alone."

"What's wrong with you these days?" Foreman looked at him with some antipathy. "I thought you got along well with her, so why have you been avoiding Cameron all week? You won't even talk about her, you stopped asking how her dates with House are, and now you're being…" He paused, searching for the right word.

"I haven't been avoiding her," Chase cut in. Before he could say more, Cameron gestured to them through the window and he followed Foreman out the door. Since Cameron was with them as they walked to the conference room, it effectively ended the conversation, but not to Foreman's satisfaction. The looks he kept on giving Chase were proof enough of that.

"Well?" House demanded when they were sitting at the table. He tossed the whiteboard marker up and down, flipping it through the air. "Extensive epidermal nodules with umbilications. She also has facial lesions."

"He," Cameron interrupted. House looked down at the chart in mock surprise. Chase always suspected that House knew full well the patient's gender, name, and even age, but just pretended ignorance to aggravate Cameron. Then again, he could be wrong. "His name is Henry Mallory, thirty two years old."

"Yeah, you can invite him to your birthday party next year," House said absently. "Facial lesions – you've tested for HIV infection. Did the results come back yet?"

"He's HIV positive," Cameron said. "Severely immunologically compromised."

"It could be molluscum contagiosum," Chase offered, having already secretly studied it.

Foreman's eyebrows shot up. "That was quick. And probably wrong. A poxvirus?"

"Chase's right. MC fits the symptoms, but other life-threatening opportunistic infections might mimic MC. Histoplasmosis, aspergillosis, cutaneous cryptococcosis," Cameron listed, clearly in her forte.

Chase looked at her with eyebrows raised, unintentionally mirroring Foreman's earlier expression, and she rolled her eyes. "Hey, you aren't the only one who went to medical school, you know. I had MC as one of my third-year projects."

"But he reported no sexual partners for the last year. This guy isn't getting any action and MC is usually transmitted sexually. It's classified as an STD for adults," Foreman protested.

"For healthy adults, yeah," Cameron replied. "Our patient's immunocompromised. He could've got it in nonsexual skin-to-skin contact with someone infected."

"You can't take it just on his word, either," Chase pointed out. "If he got it from some girl on the streets, he isn't likely to want to talk about that."

Cameron sighed at his matter-of-fact tone, but she couldn't really say anything to Chase for stating what they'd all been thinking.

House watched them toss a few ideas back and forth for another minute or so before he threw the marker at Chase. It missed his head by a few inches and only because Chase happened to bend forward.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Oops, sorry, slipped out of my fingers," House said, unconcerned despite the glare he was getting from his intensivist. "Go do a skin biopsy or squash preparation, your choice."

"Cameron's the immunologist," Foreman said. He ignored the glare Chase gave him at his words.

"What are you guys, the Scooby Gang?" House sighed. "Fine, she can tag along. That means _you _get to inform good ol' Harry that he's HIV positive."

"Henry," Cameron corrected without missing a beat. To his credit, Foreman didn't balk that much, though Chase sent him a smirk for his backfired plan. The three filed out of the room as House sat in his chair and watched them go.

"Surprise, surprise," he said to Wilson a few minutes later when the man walked in, no doubt to escape one of Cuddy's tirades. "Chase's got a thing for Cameron."

"You just noticed _now_?" Wilson laughed. "They do say that love blinds."

xxxxx

"What do you want, skin biopsy or squash preparation? Aka histology or microscopes?" Chase asked, rather reluctantly looking at Cameron. Foreman must be laughing his head off at him right now, after that talk. Some of his irritation faded, however, when he saw that Cameron's eyes really were red.

"Get the supplies for a squash prep, will you?" she said. "I'll go take the sample. Be right back."

Nothing wrong showed in her demeanor. Foreman was right, Chase decided as he waited in the lab. Cameron was happy with House, much to his displeasure, so whatever it was, it didn't involve her relationship. He didn't want to press it just yet, though. They hadn't had a single actual conversation for the last week, after all. He wondered if Cameron had even noticed.

"You can do the honors," he said when she returned, and watched as she manually extracted the cellular material contained in the center pit of the epidermal nodules. The cellular exudate from the umbilication was then carefully flattened between two microscope slides and stained. Everything was done precisely and perfectly. When she was done, Cameron gestured at him to look at the prepared slide.

"Henderson-Paterson bodies," he said after a moment. "It's definitely MC. Do you want to check?"

He moved a little to the side and Cameron leaned down to look, her bangs falling in front of her face. Without thinking about it, he reached forward and smoothed it behind her ear. It was so natural somehow that Cameron didn't even notice, intent on the slide, though Chase shocked himself a bit.

"We'll need to take an aggressive surgical approach to this and prescribe a few topical agents, based on his severe immunosuppression," Cameron said. "What do you know about the HAART therapy?"

"Not much, unfortunately. It restores immune competence by raising the CD4 cell count. Can we use it on HIV positive patients?"

"We'll have to consult House or look it up," she decided.

"All right then. It's good to know its MC and not something even more serious. The poor guy has it bad enough, finding out he's infected with HIV." Chase thought about all the things that would readily attack an immune system so weakened and winced. Life for Henry Mallory would never be quite the same again.

"We still have to find out how he got it," Cameron pointed out. "He could have been lying about the sexual partners, but once he realizes how serious he is, maybe he'll start talking. Besides, they need to know he tested positive for HIV."

"You know who House likes to use to get the patient histories," Chase grinned as they walked back to report their findings to House. Some of the pressure off now that the patient's disease was pinpointed. "Have fun listening to all the juicy details of his love life, Cameron. How long did it take you for that last patient a couple of days ago? Two, three hours?"

She gave him a dirty look and he just laughed.

xxxxx

There was something different about Cameron that shone and attracted others to her like moths to a flame. He'd noticed that she was special, but he hadn't realized how much so until he'd thought about it. Above all, Chase was touched by her obvious empathy with the patients. As an intensivist, he knew what it was like to suffer just as the patient's family was suffering. He understood the doctor's role to ease their pain by somehow sharing it.

It drained you, left you with nightmares at night about the people you couldn't save. The expression on the ones left behind, when you first broke the news to them – that was something that stayed with you forever. Not the individual faces, but the expression itself, which never changed. That look in their eyes, the utter devastation written on their faces when they just begin to comprehend how much they've just lost.

But Cameron handled it all, she didn't shy away from the emotional ties that came with the nature of the work they did, she didn't cheat the patients or their families and loved ones by downplaying their feelings. Most other doctors thought that her kind heart was a weakness and scorned her for not yet having become numbed to it. They resented her precisely because she persevered in her kindness, no matter the personal cost, and in some ways, they hated her because she did what they weren't willing to do.

Cameron gave herself over the each and every patient – not just her professional dedication, but also her heart. That was exactly what was so incredible and one of the reasons why Chase had to admit to himself that he was fascinated with her. Even though she would have been the first to admit that she wasn't close to him, he felt like sometimes she was the closest he was to anyone, on some level he didn't even understand himself.

"Who are you thinking about?" The unexpected sound of Foreman's voice almost right behind him made Chase start.

"No one," he answered coolly, turning back to the computer screen. They were technically on break, but he wanted to check up on something anyway. "HAART therapy," he murmured. "Here it is." He clicked on the link before looking up at Foreman, who hadn't moved. "Why?"

"You have this soft smile on your face, kind of like—"

"Like something sickening," House finished, entering the room. "Why are you two here, doing nothing? Aren't there patients to see to, people to cure? Chase!"

"What?" He tried to suppress a sigh, certain that House would appoint him the most revolting of the patients, as usual. Or make him do some other mindless research, like looking up some obscure disease out of some thousand possibilities.

"Dr. Cameron can use some help with the patient's family. She's in Exam Room Two."

Well, now, that wasn't too bad, though he would've preferred not having to work with Cameron too much. He tended to get…distracted. It bothered him more than he'd like to admit to himself. As a rule, once he decided someone wasn't for him or was out of his reach, he stopped himself from stray thoughts and so forth. But whenever he was near Cameron he subconsciously noticed her—random, absurd things, like the way she sometimes tilted her head in inquiry, or the way she liked her coffee.

Chase closed his browser window and got up. So much for the break, but he was used to it, with House around. He was at the door before hearing House assign Foreman to the woman with a case of syphilis.

Life could definitely be worse.

xxxxx

Twenty minutes later, Chase would have gladly swapped places with Foreman. The Mallory family hadn't taken it well to say the least, and he'd seen mothers less hysterical after hearing about their son's death. Granted, testing positive for HIV was one of those things that forever affected one and one's family, but it didn't warrant full-blown screaming. With all his experience, Chase had never had anyone react quite this way. It sounded like something out of an old horror flick and indeed, it was starting to scare the other patients. He only hoped that Cameron could calm her down before House came over to make some caustic remark that would only exacerbate the situation.

"Mrs. Mallory, please have a seat," he tried saying. Her husband was sitting in shock next to her.

"He was a good boy, I don't understand, he never had many girlfriends," Mrs. Mallory babbled.

From a medical point of view, that was good news because it meant he hadn't had the chance to spread it to many people. On the other hand, that did make it more tragic. "It's unfortunate but you don't need to panic, Mrs. Mallory. Dr. Cameron is an immunologist and she can recommend several treatment plans. I assure you, we'll determine what's best for your son."

He kept his voice at a comforting murmur, trying to speak with as little accent as possible. Sometimes it was easier to connect when the other person didn't subconsciously view him as a foreigner. Cameron noticed what he was doing and raised an eyebrow, which he took to mean that he was failing horribly at his attempt to sound non-Australian.

Between the two of them, they finally talked Mrs. Mallory into a more or less calm state. Trust House to be intuitive about things like Cameron needing extra help with overreacting parents, Chase thought. Foreman hadn't had half as much trouble when he informed the patient himself of his condition.

What was more surprising was that as Chase and Cameron walked back to the patient's room, he caught a glimpse of her face and stopped in surprise. Cameron kept on walking so he grabbed her wrist.

"What's wrong?"

She pulled away but he followed her to the conference room. House was out, something to be thankful for, because Chase wasn't sure how he'd react to a teary Cameron.

"Come on, was it Mrs. Mallory? She'll be fine, you know, once she gets over the shock. I'm sorry, I knew you were having a bad day. I could've handled it alone."

"No, it's not that. I don't want to talk about it." She wasn't quite crying yet, but her eyes were shimmering with liquid.

"Was it something any of us did?" he asked hesitantly.

"Maybe God," she said vehemently, turning around with her hands on her hips. "Or if you don't believe in religion, then blame it on Fate."

He couldn't follow her train of thought but Chase thought that he had a good idea of where this was going. What was unusual was that it was over a patient that was a complete stranger; Cameron hadn't even exchanged a few words with Henry Mallory, so it didn't make sense that she was being so emotional over him. He was spared having to ask her for more, though, when she continued.

"You're telling his parents that he's going to die. Sooner or later, but it's not going to be peaceful, it's not going to be painless." Tears spilled down Cameron's pale cheeks and she curled her hands into fists. Most men would have been at a complete loss, faced with the breakdown of a woman who was usually so competent and professional. Chase was different; perhaps he still had a bit of a priest's soul in him.

"HIV infection isn't the end of his life," he said softly. "You know as well as I do that there are hundreds of treatments out there being developed and researched. And the MC should be resolved with some treatment."

"His mother gave me this look…" Cameron wiped away her tears quickly, trying to regain control of herself. "I'm just being silly. I'm sorry, Chase, I don't know what's wrong with me today."

He studied her for a moment and decided to press his luck. The worst that could happen would be that she would be angry with him for overstepping his boundaries. "Yes, you _do_ know. Tell me about it?"

Maybe he was just distant enough for her to be able to do so. Not so close a friend that she would feel guilty in burdening him with her problems, but not just an acquaintance, either, to whom it would be awkward that she would share her thoughts or feelings. And somehow despite their ability to work together professionally, it never really felt as if that was all they had in common when he was with Cameron.

She turned away from him, taking unsteady breaths. "It's just today. It's nothing, Chase. I just saw the look on the mom's face and I wondered if—if I looked like that when I found out." Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs and Chase made her face him. He never knew exactly how it happened or who made the first move, but he found himself holding her.

He'd never really realized how soft she was, how delicately made, almost fragile. She was usually so commanding, so very confident, and he respected her for her intelligence and her skill in her chosen area. Truth to tell, he got along with her better than either Foreman or House. House disliked him, or at least he had that impression after the Vogler period, and Foreman resented him just a tiny bit because to Foreman, everyone was competition. With these and with the other people of PPTH, he maintained a professional, semi-friendly relationship, enough for the teamwork necessary in the job. The kind where you sent a small gift or a card on their birthdays, but not an actual present.

It shook him to see her crying like this. Cameron wasn't the kind of person to cry easily over nothing, although she was arguably emotional at times. He'd seen her keep her composure countless times when a lesser woman would've broke. Chase waited until the stormy fit of tears had quieted a little. He'd never expected to be her confessor, but he'd always been, hadn't he? Cameron had told him about her feelings for House before anyone else. She came to _him_ when House was bothering her, like the day after her fancy date with House a week ago. She obviously trusted him, even if he didn't know exactly why.

"What's today, Allison?" He asked after the last of her sobs subsided. Her head had been resting on his shoulder but now she moved to look at him with a little surprise at his use of her actual name. Whatever she saw in his face reassured her.

"It's the anniversary of my husband's death," she said softly, so he barely heard. She squirmed a little and he loosened his hold, but she didn't push him away though she could have. "I told you it was silly. It's nothing."

Chase understood that she didn't want comforting words or more tears. He could see that she was already a little embarrassed that he caught her at a bad time and she was trying to rally.

"Why do you try to do that?" Cameron asked. She sounded incredibly normal and although the conversation change was abrupt, he pretended not to notice and answered her unsubtle plea.

"Do what?"

"When you were out there, you tried to hide your accent. I've seen you do it other times, too."

"If it makes people more comfortable, I'm willing to try." Chase shrugged. "People are less comfortable with foreigners."

"I think it's cute, though. It's true that a lot of girls love the accent." Her smile broke a little.

"Yeah…" He couldn't think of a single thing to say. Oh wait. House. "Well, a lot of people can't tell the difference between an Australian and British accent. Or actually, now that I think about it, by 'some people' I really just mean one person."

"He's just trying to annoy you in order to entertain himself." All traces of tears gone, except for the fact that her eyes were red. It was odd to see her put up her defenses, one by one, right in front of him. It only emphasized how vulnerable she had made herself to him, and he appreciated it. At the same time, he regretted the widening distance between them.

"You must have loved him deeply," Chase found himself saying. Moments later, he berated himself silently for bringing up the subject again.

"Yeah, yeah I did." Her voice was just barely tinged with bitterness. "Or maybe like Greg says, I only fall in love with broken things. I fix people, right? As a doctor, but…he thinks I want to fix him."

"Do you?"

"I'm not sure. It's like what I said before." She shifted restlessly and picked up a paperweight, only to set it down again. "I'm glad you were here and not anyone else," she said. Not House, Chase thought, the truth rather bittersweet. Cameron gave him a smile, small but sincere. "Thanks, Chase."

"Remember, if you ever fall I'll be there to catch you, all right?" It was such an absurd and juvenile cliché that it startled a laugh out of her, the sound warming him, or perhaps it was the feeling between them, a tentative connection formed from a shared experience neither would ever bring up again.

"Seriously, though. I'll be there if you ever need me, all right?" He was being transparent, but Cameron had been through too much just then to notice, though later she would wonder a little.

"Of course." Her hand shyly reached out to his and they clasped hands for a minute, a minor intimacy compared to what had just gone on before, but it strangely felt more meaningful.

xxxxx

**Please review! **I know there's more chapters, but I'm always interested in seeing how you think the story and their relationship develop. One of the very first readers once suggested "Intricacy" as the title for this story, and the more I think about it, the more it seems appropriate. What do you think?


	3. Incompatibility

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement is intended. Written with all respect towards the creators of House, M.D.

**Chapter 3: Incompatibility**

"Did you see the necklace he bought her?" the ancient nurse muttered to her young friend, not noticing the reaction her words caused as Chase's head jerked sharply upward.

"She's only been wearing it _all the time_," the medical assistant replied with a roll of her eyes. "I wish my boyfriend gave me stuff like that. How do you know it was from House anyway? I doubt he's the type to think of expensive little gifts."

At the mention of House's name, the nurse cleared her throat meaningfully with a tilt of her head towards Chase's direction. The three resumed their work in silence punctuated only by the patient's beeping heart monitor. Despite himself, Chase's curiosity overcame the strict rules he had set on himself and had abided by for some weeks.

"Well, you guys don't have to stop chatting for my sake," he offered, eliciting a laugh from the nurse. Her face creased into wrinkles as she smiled and she looked surprisingly like the stereotypical kindly grandmother.

"What do _you_ think about it then?" the assistant asked as she handed the nurse a prepared needle.

"About what?" Chase ruefully reminded himself that curiosity killed the cat. Then again, no one ever heard about the second part to that particular saying: satisfaction brought him back.

"Dr. House and Dr. Cameron, of course."

The subject was a prime piece of gossip, or maybe it only seemed that way because he heard it everywhere. Chase gave a non-committal shrug. "What did he get her?"

"It's so like a guy not to notice," the women practically chorused together.

"You work with her every day and don't notice what's around her neck?" added the medical assistant. Chase was about to defend his skills of observation when the nurse interrupted.

"At least it proves that he doesn't try to look down her shirt," she quipped, much to the amusement of her friend.

Cursing his fair complexion and embarrassing tendency to blush—yes, _blush_, a habit that seemed to have followed him from childhood to adulthood_—_when the subject included a certain colleague, Chase did his best to ignore the feminine laughter that filled the room. Ironically, he was saved by none other than the patient, who had just then decided to regain consciousness. Or so Chase thought, until he heard the old man speak.

"Thar pretty gal with the blue eyes?" Mr. McGinnes mumbled, lecherous eyes rolling to Chase. "You there boy, listen up! You've no idea what you're missing…"

xxxxx

_Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. _

House and his whiteboard marker made almost a hypnotizing team, quickly inducing sleep in all of his listeners. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was five in the morning on a Monday.

_TAP-TAP-TAP!_

Two heads jerked up, one dark, one light, at the harsh sound right next to their ears. Identical winces met House's cruel use of the marker.

"I don't see why we have to be awake when she's not even here yet," Chase grumbled. "Oh wait, I bet you just like torturing your team until we're all zombie-like from sleep deprivation."

"He thinks it's funny," Foreman said with a yawn. "Seriously, when _is _Cameron going to get here? We've been sitting for what, fifteen minutes, now? Feels more like an hour."

"I see a familiar set of bangs heading this way," Chase said as he looked through the glass of the conference room. "Unless I'm hallucinating, which isn't as unlikely as it should be."

"You're late," House accused Cameron the moment she opened the door and walked in. Foreman and Chase, having been through similar experiences before, smiled smugly at each other and sat back to watch the show.

"Car trouble," Cameron replied, not in the least fazed. "I had to have a friend drop me off."

"Well, now that my immunologist is finally here, we can get to work." House _hmmed_, popped open the marker he'd been tapping, and began to write out symptoms on the board.

Foreman's jaw dropped and he turned towards Chase with an incredulous look. _That's it?_ he mouthed.

"What did you expect?" the Australian retorted, inwardly adding, _she's his girlfriend after all_.

Cameron leaned close to House and a brilliant sparkle momentarily blinded Chase. His eyes widened as he took in the diamond drop hanging from a delicate silver chain around Cameron's neck. No way. House could _not _have bought that for her. That was impossible. Impossible!

He thought about the nurse yesterday and stared at the proof of House's feelings for Cameron dangling before his eyes. House wasn't a romantic. Period. So why on earth did he give Cameron that necklace, practically a symbol of possession?

Foreman punched him on the shoulder, startling him out of his confused thoughts. Chase looked up to see all three fellow doctors staring at him, Foreman with amusement, House with irritation, and Cameron with some indecipherable expression. Suddenly he realized what it must have looked like—as if he'd been ogling Cameron's…

"Just, ah—" he choked out. "Admiring your necklace, that's all."

"It's an heirloom," Cameron said, deciding to help him out by glossing over the situation. "My mother just passed it on to me recently; it's been in the family for ages."

Chase looked at her inanely for a few seconds before House set them all to work again. His attention was divided, however, even as he tried to think of diagnoses that would explain the patient's predicament.

Well now, there was a nurse and an assistant that he'd very much like to work with today… Of course, it was his own fault anyway. He'd just jumped to conclusions. Any idiot could see that House couldn't possibly have bought something like that for a girlfriend.

Annoyed with himself—for the billionth time this week—Chase set himself to task with furious determination.

xxxxx

"Foreman, think this over before you suggest it to House—" Chase entreated as he hurried after the other doctor, who was convinced that he'd come up with the right diagnosis. Except it only applied to three out of seven symptoms. House would have a good laugh over this one; Foreman was usually great but today his mind obviously was on things other than the practice of medicine. "It's only right if you rule out the skin rashes, and what do you think is responsible for—"

They turned around the corner and froze as they took in the very visible scene playing out on the other side of the clear glass, inside the office. Thought completely forgotten, Chase had the sense to grab Foreman and pull him back around the corner, where they gave each other amazed looks.

Hesitantly they peered around the corner again, but they could have stepped out and danced the tango together with no difference, for all the attention the people of interest were giving them. Cameron and House were standing close to each other and Cameron was saying something, clearly upset.

House shook his head and moved away, and Cameron stiffened, calling out something. House responded with more anger than Chase had ever seen in all the time he'd been working with him, slamming his cane down, the sound penetrating loudly even through the glass. Chase half expected the floor to crack, and from the gasp he heard from Foreman right behind him, the other doctor must have been sharing the same thought.

Cameron had turned away, two bright flares of color on her cheeks, distinct in her otherwise very pale face. Her eyes glittered with hurt and anger. It was like watching some sort of soap opera, except the acting couldn't possibly be this bad. The glass had insulated most of the sound, except for the few words that came out unintelligibly but clearly some sort of damaging, meant-to-hurt kind of phrase.

Foreman gestured for Chase to follow him and they rounded the corner and stood silently watching, prudence completely forgotten. It was too fascinating in a horrible sort of way, like watching an accident about to happen.

Cameron had turned towards them, and House had turned this way as well. For a moment the four of them stared at each other, two on each side of the clear glass. Two suffering, two surprised.

Then Cameron stormed past Chase and Foreman as if they didn't exist, and disappeared down the hall they had just come from. She'd obviously had tears streaming down her cheeks.

They turned back to House and he was now sitting with his head propped on his hands, staring intently at the whiteboard that they used to write out symptoms and possible cures, looking for all the world as if nothing had just happened.

xxxxx

Her eyes were disturbingly red and she looked pale and tired. She turned away and started fussing with some papers or something, as if she didn't want Chase to see. All right, if it made it easier for her, he'd pretend he couldn't see the glistening liquid on her cheeks. Since she was turned away from him, Chase could study her to his heart's content, rather than covertly like he had been doing. He was struck by the loneliness in her posture, the graceful lines of her beautiful body that somehow spoke of sadness, as well as an enduring kind of strength of spirit.

He really wanted to say something, maybe offer her a little comfort, but it was too awkward. Especially since he and Foreman had walked in on it like that. Even so…

"Do you need anything?"

Her head came up and she turned around, hand coming up to swipe at her eyes. She looked confused. The diamond drop that he'd been admiring (and obsessing over) earlier now hung forlornly like a crystallized teardrop. "What?"

He realized what he'd said and cursed himself for just blurting out whatever was on his mind like that. "I just meant, is there anything I can do?"

"No, not really," she said, but she gave him a watery smile as a thank you. "I'd rather you not…mention it."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Such pointless words, and he should have known better than to bring up what was clearly the cause of her misery. But for some reason, maybe the dark hurt he saw in her eyes, he was prompted to try again.

"Come on, our shifts are over in," he looked down at his watch and was pleasantly surprised, "right now, actually. Let's go for a cup of coffee." He could see she was about to refuse, no doubt wanting to go home, where she would probably cry on her pillow in her lonely apartment. But sometimes it was better having someone near, just to know you're not alone in the world and that someone cares about you, however shallow friendship might be in comparison to the kind of relationship you lost.

It was the part of him that had almost resulted him in becoming a priest that urged him on now. He hesitated, and then added softly, "Please?"

She looked startled, and then gave a low laugh that was self-deprecating and wasn't happy at all. "I look that bad, huh?"

"No, nothing like that. You're always beautiful," he said hurriedly. "I just thought you might want some company, not like anything, just a friendly ear if you want to talk." They weren't that close as friends. In fact, he doubted that he even made it onto her list of friends. Cameron was just nice to everyone, so he'd probably overstepped his boundaries, and now he was babbling. "It's fine if you don't want to, I mean…" he said in an attempt to amend the situation.

"Yes."

"—what?"

"All right. Let's go," she said, her chin up, and just the tilt of her head told Chase that she was challenging herself. There was that determined light in her eyes, like the sort that she had when dealing with a particularly difficult patient. She stopped pretending to organize the paperwork and walked over to the door. "Coffee sounds wonderful right now."

"I'll give you a ride home later, too, if you tell me where you live," he added, remembering what she had said that morning about her friend dropping her off.

She nodded, and he escorted her to his car.

xxxxx

He drove Cameron back to her apartment afterward, parked on the curb, and then got out and went to stand with her in front of her door. No, not all of the hurt had left her, but he'd managed to make her laugh once or twice with his stories, and she looked more alive than before, less stricken. At least it was a small improvement, right? He hadn't made it worse, at any rate.

Then there were the little things that usually didn't mean much, but seemed terribly vital and important to Chase. There was a sort of intimacy in sitting together in the corner of the room. The appraising look she'd given him when they had both reached for the bill, and had touched hands briefly.

Then, in the darkness and privacy of the car, the subtle tension that came from an acknowledged mutual attraction that neither would act on. The kind of I-know-that-you-know situation, which warmed him more than the coffee, but at the same time made him feel like scum. It couldn't have been a worse time for Cameron to be looking at him like that, but everything in him was telling him to take the opportunity, because there probably (or, sure as hell) wouldn't be another one. Of course, then not only would she despise him, he would despise himself.

Just before she walked up the few steps she turned to him and blurted the main cause of her worry, once the first wave of pain was over. "I don't know if I can face him." There was obviously no need to ask who she was referring to. "I was thinking…" she trailed off, shoulders slumping just a fraction.

"What is it, Allison?" He'd never used her name like that. Even to each other they were Chase and Cameron, it was just the way the medical world worked. It seemed wrong to use her real name, and yet it sounded right, too. _Distance_, he chanted to himself.

"Maybe I should get another job, someplace else." She choked a little on the words. "They wanted me, earlier. Maybe the position's still open."

"Do you really want to leave Plainsboro?" He strove for a neutral tone, like he was ready to support her either way. But inside he wasn't feeling like that at all. She was going to leave them, leave the team because of _House_.

"No," she said. "I love it there. But Greg…" she bit her lip at her slip, and her eyes glittered with a soft sheen of liquid again. Apparently the medical system be damned when it came to relationships, Chase noted rather crossly. "With House, it might be awkward now."

She turned away and he thought that was the end, but she spoke again in a low voice. "I don't think I could last for another round with him. I left once, it should be easier the second time, don't you think?" Cameron gave him a weak smile. "You can say I've had practice."

"Don't go," he said with a quiet intensity, accent more prominent with his emotions. Even wrapped up in her heartbreak, Cameron sensed something, but she didn't know what to make of it. So like it had been for the rest of the evening, she pretended not to notice, and Chase pretended along with her.

"He won't miss me, I assure you."

"He will. You're special to him." It was hard to say it, but it was still true. He barely smiled. "Even if he won't, I will. Foreman will."

"Well, you've had practice too, and I didn't see you guys making a big deal of it then," she said rather sharply.

"And how would you know?" he answered back just as cuttingly, while his heart skipped a beat.

They stood in silence for a while; he half expected her to turn around and leave, but she sighed instead. "I had so many warnings, but I'm just not a good listener, am I?"

"Don't worry." He took his hand in his and rubbed small circles in it, and then stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. "I'll be there, too. Just call me if you ever need a buffer, okay? It's not like there's any love lost between us already, anyway."

"Yeah," she said, lost in thought. "But it's funny, I think he really does like you. I imagine if he were to adopt a son or something, he'd treat him the same way. Love from him is half torture. You know he really doesn't like you when he doesn't bother."

Chase stiffened at her mention of fathers and sons, well aware that subconsciously, he couldn't help but cast House in the role. Having firmly avoided any self-introspection for months, he wished that Cameron would direct her analysis towards someone or something else. She seemed to feel how uncomfortable he was; she looked down at their clasped hands but didn't remove her hands from his. "Chase?"

"Hhn?" He looked down at their hands too, so he wouldn't have to meet her eyes. She had very small hands with delicate fingers. All that Chase had known before was that she was precise when suturing and her hands were steady, efficient. Now he marveled that such hands were capable of so much. A tiny voice in the back of his head screamed that they shouldn't even be touching hands.

"Thanks. Thanks for everything." She squeezed his hand for a moment and gave him a smile, a real smile with confidence behind it, not just an attempt at it, and then turned to take out her keys.

"Anytime. Sweet dreams tonight." He watched her open the door and enter before he turned away and got back into his car. From the driver's seat he looked back at her and she gave a small wave before closing the door.

He kind of wished that she had called him Robert.

xxxxx

A/N: I hope you like it so far. Please review!


	4. Accidentally

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. No copyright infringement intended. Written with all respect towards the creators.

**Chapter 4: Accidentally**

"He drives me insane," she ranted as they entered the hospital again, scant break almost over. "What's worse, he drives me insane as a doctor and just as himself!"

"Mhmn," Chase replied, hoping he sounded appropriately sympathetic. This was girl stuff, and he was sick of hearing about House, House, House. They'd broken up a week ago, but you couldn't tell from the way Cameron talked.

They were actually in a strange sort of friendship. He knew that she knew that he had some feelings for her; after all, he'd asked her for a casual date before. He just wasn't sure if she'd realized that he hadn't been as flippant about it as he'd acted.

They'd started to talk simply because of the sheer amount of time they spent together at the hospital. Most of Chase's friends were in Australia, and most of her girlfriends were as busy as she was. They'd found out that they had more in common than anyone would have guessed. She talked, he listened, and it worked out—even outside eyes noticed that they got along well. Technically, they were using each other, but then again, Chase was cynical when it came to friendship.

The subject of today's chat was, of course, House and his faults. The unexpected surprise was that the subject was present when Chase and Cameron entered the conference room, along with Foreman. It was late, almost nine, and they'd just wrapped up a case. Usually, by this point everyone just wanted to get home and sleep, considering the latter had been in short quantity over the last week or so of constant patient monitoring, tests, and so forth. Cameron practically pounced at the opportunity.

"You're such a Machiavellian bastard," Cameron accused. Normally Foreman and Chase would've enjoyed watching anyone who was stupid enough to get in a spat with House, but this time they just exchanged worried looks. Well, Chase looked worried; Foreman naturally had to pretend that gawking was beneath him, so he put on a look of boredom. Funnily, everyone in the room had picked up immediately on the seeming non sequitur. Of course, House professed not to, because it was more fun that way.

"I don't understand," House said in an injured tone. "Care to refresh my memory on the ramblings of ancient Italian philosophers?"

"What I mean is that to you the ends justify all the means," she hissed. "You ordered a dozen invasive tests to be done on that poor eight year old girl when two, _possibly _three would have sufficed."

"Wrong. She wouldn't have lived long enough for the inconclusive test results to come back and for you to realize that you needed to cut her open anyway." House twirled his cane in irritation, actually baffled as to the real reason why Cameron was mad.

Chase actually agreed with him on this one; Cameron was clearly just in the mood to pick a fight. That was rare, but then again, she had a good excuse for it. By now the entire hospital staff must have heard about House's brief fling with her. She hated being known as the brainless pretty girl, or as the excessively emotional doctor. Chase and Foreman could only guess how much she hated having her reputation in tatters. There were good reasons why people were careful not to mix their personal and professional lives.

House scoffed at some point Cameron had made about how he had bullied the parents into signing the consent forms. "Whether my methods are questionable or not is a moot point. My results aren't questionable, are they? The patient is recovering and the case is a success. What more do you want?"

Chase thought the actual question being asked was more like, _what more can you expect?_ You either got used to House and his idiosyncrasies, or you left. It was a miracle that all three of them had lasted this long, in fact. Cameron seemed to be teetering on the edge.

"What I want is to see the slightest bit of decency from you," she retorted.

"Sorry, all out of that. Why don't you ask your fairy godmother to give me some as a present?"

It was almost pitiful to see House's talent at work, turning everything into sarcasm. Chase had to admit, he'd thought that it was humorous on more than one occasion—that is, when the victim hadn't been one of the team. This time, as far as he could see, the only positive thing about this was that it was in the relative privacy of their conference room. He could imagine the gossip of the day as _The Tragedy of House and Cameron: Part VI. Stay tuned for the next installment_.

He looked at Foreman, who showed that he was clearly not about to intervene any time soon. Part of him was extremely tempted to act the same, but the fight looked as if it would escalate even more. Finally, Chase sighed and prepared himself for battle.

"Cameron, just let it go. You guys can argue for the next three weeks and House will never admit he might be wrong."

"Stay out of this, Chase. You've got nothing to do with it." He never seemed to get used to the full impact of having those blue eyes fixed angrily on him. Hell, why was _he_ always the mediator between House and Cameron these days? Oh, right. Because the only person left would've been Foreman.

"Hey, I worked on the case too. I—"

"She's right, you've got nothing to do with it," House interrupted, turning back to Cameron. "Come on, you know you're only using him. Women are just so manipulative, really. What did you want to do, make me jealous?"

His barb came a little too close to the truth and the room was suddenly silent. House obligingly filled it. "Someone once said that the true man wants two things: danger and play. And for that reason he wants women, as the most dangerous plaything."

Another long pause. "Oh, right, it was Nietzsche. Don't you love him?"

Chase surreptitiously looked at the clock, glad that they always timed their breaks so that it was right at the end of the day. Ten more minutes till their unofficial shift was over—they'd all been working late over the last few days.

Cameron must have realized the same thing. Having endured enough, she turned to leave the room again. Chase, glad for the opportunity to leave as well, beat her to the door and held it open for her while she grabbed her personal things.

"Where are you going?" House had the gall to ask her, still sitting calmly at the table.

"Home," she retorted.

"You're abandoning me?" He pretended to be hurt, and it seemed to make a mockery of all the people who he'd injured earlier. Seeing his expression proved to be the last straw for Cameron.

"I'm so sick of this! I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of wishing I never fell in love with you. Most of all, I'm sick of always being the stupid, silly _idiot _who thought there was something in you that I could reach!"

She swept past Chase, who remained motionless from shock for a moment before belatedly letting the door go so it could close. Of course, since it was glass, it didn't prove to be much of a shield. Foreman, already naturally uncomfortable when it came to things like emotion, decided that he'd had enough too. Everyone wanted to get away from the big, bad, House.

Chase walked away, wondering what tomorrow would be like. They'd all be exceptionally professional, no doubt, and excessively distant. House would probably go back to calling them Dr. Cameron, Dr. Foreman, and Dr. Chase, like he did when they had first started.

Truth to tell, he mused as he made his way to the hospital parking building, this wasn't entirely unexpected. Usually the tension would build up from something House or one of them did, but eventually ease down again. This time, it just kept building and building with no respite. It seemed as if all the events had just been precursors to some big, disastrous finale that was as inevitable as a storm.

Halfway to his parking space, Chase realized that he'd left his wallet back at the hospital, with his driver's license included. Generally it was with him all the time, but today he'd taken it out and promptly forgotten to retrieve it in his haste to remove himself from the potential-casualty-zone of the House and Cameron wars.

Well, no hope for it, he reflected unhappily. Time to risk another foray. Hopefully, by the time he'd gotten back there Foreman and House would've left. Just to be sure, he decided, he'd give them an extra ten minutes.

It wasn't as if he was in any hurry to go anywhere tonight, and although some small, annoying voice in his mind insisted that he was a complete coward for not wanting to face anyone, he reasoned that it was really just a practical choice based on cost-benefit analysis. Sacrifice another ten minutes and possibly avoid an awkward moment that would stay in his memory for the rest of his life.

After the passage of said time period, Chase slipped back into the hospital and to their conference room almost as furtively as a thief. The lights were out but he didn't bother turning them on; he was quite familiar with the room since it was practically his second home, and he knew exactly where his stuff was.

So some very embarrassing sounds nearly issued from his throat when House's disembodied voice floated into his ears from somewhere in the darkness.

"What are you doing here, Chase?"

For a moment, thoughts of hallucinations and/or vengeful ghosts passed through his mind, before Chase recovered his logic. "Forgot something," he replied, feeling distinctively odd for talking to the dark. If he discovered later that he had a personalized House-voice in his head…

Needless to say, he left as quickly as possible and breathed a sigh of relief while walking back to the parking building. Now that he was away from House, he naturally wondered why the doctor had been sitting in the conference room in the dark. It had to be for some time, too. Come to think of it, hadn't House's voice been unusually hoarse? He hadn't noticed it before, since he'd been too busy suffering a pseudo heart attack, but it was just _barely _possible that House was sitting in the conference room, in the dark, feeling miserable about himself.

The thought gave Chase some satisfaction. If he was going to make everyone else suffer, by all rights he should suffer himself. Deep down, Chase sincerely liked House. That was one of the reasons why it had been all the more awful that Cameron had fallen in love with House. For all of House's faults, the people nearest to him, namely Wilson, Cuddy, and House's so-called 'ducklings,' could see past them to the better things beneath. To some extent, they understood why he did the things he did and they each forgave him for it.

It was almost ten, and it was quite dark outside. Chase was all around sympathetic for House, Cameron, and himself, and so exhausted that the world around him appeared to be almost dream-like. Heading towards the stairs—his car was unfortunately parked on the second level—Chase encountered yet another familiar face. He didn't particularly want to see her now, either, when his defenses were all down because he was so tired. Being sleep-deprived had surprisingly similar effects on inhibition as being drunk had.

Cameron sat on the first step, head buried in her arms. It was late, she was a woman, and she was sitting in a parking lot alone. If there was a Manual of Dangerous Situations, no doubt this would have satisfied the top three factors. The situation practically demanded Chase to notice and to do something about it. He wondered inanely if the knight in shining armor ever decided to conveniently ride past the damsel in distress.

"Why haven't you headed home?" he said, startling her into looking up. Once she saw who it was, she put her head down again, and Chase barely caught her muffled answer.

"No car, remember? That wasn't just an excuse for being late."

"So how are you going to get home?"

"Waiting for a friend to come pick me up. She'll get here around ten thirty."

"Well, I could give you a ride home like last time," he offered. "Your place isn't far from mine."

"No, it's all right. She'll be here soon."

"You shouldn't be out here alone, though. It's not safe." At her scornful look, Chase sighed internally. So much for gallantry, though it was true that this was hardly L.A. or New York in terms of crime rates. "Anyway, I'll stay with you until your friend gets here."

"You don't have to. I'm sure you're as tired as I am, if not more. Didn't you cover for Foreman last night, too? He had a date with someone."

Right, Chase had decided that it wasn't as if staying extra hours would interfere with his own non-existent social life. But he simply nodded now. "I don't mind."

"Up to you," was her only comment. From the other side of the parking lot someone's car was unlocked with a beep. The night was silent save for that and the low buzz of a streetlight about to break down—the streetlight that was closest to them, judging by the lousy quality of the flickering light it gave. Chase sat down on the step next to Cameron, wondering what would happen if he fell asleep here and was mistaken for some homeless guy.

House's accusation hung in the air between them awkwardly. Cameron stood up and stretched, walking a little distance away to look at the passing cars as if hoping one of them were her friend. He earnestly hoped that her friend would get here soon, but was pretty sure that the wish was as futile as a wish on the barely visible stars above them.

Chase was halfway asleep when out of the corner of his eye he saw Cameron's entire stance stiffen. Wondering what had caught her interest, he looked around and saw House making slow progress towards the parking structure. In other words, he'd cross paths with them.

Deprived of the hospital around him, House's presence somehow had remarkably shrunk, the main focus of attention now on his crippled leg and use of his cane, until he was rendered something human, weak, and all too fragile. Chase couldn't recall the last time he'd seen House in such a way, or indeed, if he had ever. House, humanized, was a disturbing thought.

Cameron turned away resolutely, and her movement marked the beginning of the events that unfolded like some particularly twisted dream. Chase didn't actually see the car; he heard it. The engine vibrated through the ground to where he sat on the stairs and the squeal of tires leaving marks on the ground sent alarm into his heart, the car coming down from the second floor, making a ridiculously sharp turn, going too fast—

Chase saw the rest, even though he could have predicted all the events without seeing any of it. There was protagonist A, to be referred to as House, making his way across the entrance of the parking structure, and there was protagonist B, Cameron, who secretly still loved protagonist A despite an ugly break up. There was the car, driven by unknown identity C, speeding towards A. B calls out a warning.

"Oh my God—GREG!"

And so House looks up at Cameron, because he _does _truly love her despite all the things he's done to hurt her, and becomes diverted from his task, and somehow manages to drop his cane. Without that last bit of support, House's downfall is inevitable—he is crippled, weak, unalterably _human_ and subject to _human _things like the common cold and car accidents, all the things that Chase had been pondering just shortly before.

So in the wondrous fury of love, Cameron runs over to House in desperate effort to save him, and time plays one of its tricks so that somehow Chase barely manages to rise but Cameron's already made a flying tackle, effectively pushing herself and House to the side, although even from this distance, Chase can see that she's hurt herself, can see that her head makes contact with the floor, and the car _did _clip her. The car—no, it wasn't a car, it was a goddamn _truck_—rushes past. Time resumes its normal behavior.

Reality came flooding back in a sickening wave and it was Chase who ran towards them this time. House was bent over Cameron, and the irony was complete when their relationship became patient and doctor.

Chase fumbled frantically with his cell phone, the hospital number first on his speed-dial, competition for the nonexistent girlfriend. Even this late, someone picked up right away, and he spoke with remarkable calm: "This is Dr. Chase. I need a stretcher, people, at the parking lot. There's been an MVA and Cameron's hurt, possibly House as well."

There was a surreal quality to everything that happened afterward, that made everything seem blurry in memory, although Chase distinctly recalled the moment when he bent over the unconscious Cameron, House hovering over her from her other side. Blood stained the concrete, triggering some engrained instincts, transforming them from friend-lover and lover to doctors.

A team came out and within minutes Cameron was in PPTH again, as if fate had chained her to the hospital one way or another. House didn't regain his aura of flippant confidence and remained broken, cursed by Cameron into Greg.

People assumed Chase was passive because he was quiet, they thought he didn't feel anything because he was never passionate about making his views known. Yet deep inside was the intensity of the ocean, still and powerful, more profound within than could be expressed.

Chase was a doctor. Chase was an intensivist. He was used to handling pressure like this, was probably as used to death as a human could be. But when he saw that it was Cameron on the bed, bright lights shining down onto her pale face and highlighting the blood, the list of injuries already being dictated by the doctor, everything changed.

It shattered every pretense and forced him to deal with the ungentle reality of what she really meant to him…and the intensity of that emotion, which simply could not be ignored.

xxxxx

A/N: As usual, please review! I always try to update faster when I know there are people waiting, and your comments mean a lot to me. You guys are my primary inspiration, other than the new episodes.

_Thanks – E.D._


	5. Sanctuary

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: If I owned House, M.D. then logically you guys would be watching this, not reading this. Since you're obviously not, then logically… You get the point.

**Chapter 5: Sanctuary**

He did everything automatically, and all too soon was left with nothing to do at all. It was clear from the start that Cameron's injuries were not life threatening, but it was still a badly shaken Chase who finally stood back and helplessly watched as they settled her into the ER. He found himself desperately hoping that her injuries were minor, not simply for the obvious reasons, but also because he couldn't imagine being called on to treat her as an intensivist.

There was some blood; looking at it made him feel ill despite the fact that he'd never been squeamish at the sight of blood in all the years of his life, and despite the fact that he regularly saw large amounts of it. It was _Allison Cameron's _blood, and that made all the difference. He'd always laughed at the stories of how others in the medical profession had turned pale, or even fainted, when it came to treating their own family members. Suddenly, now, he could sympathize. It wasn't embarrassing at all. It was simply terrifying.

"Broken arm, probably just badly bruised ribs and hip, although the x-rays will have to come back before we can be sure of anything. What worries me is the possible effect of the concussion."

Chase turned around with a start, having forgotten the presence of House right up until he spoke. Looking at House, Chase almost hated him for his ability to remain completely calm. He could remember a few tense moments, when he'd glimpsed House's face as the first EMTs had moved Cameron onto the stretcher, but now the older doctor looked as he always did. In contrast, Chase was a poorly disguised emotional mess.

As if sensing his thoughts, House added unkindly, "Don't bother praying that she won't _die _on you, Chase. That is, if you happen to believe in God today."

It might have been due to some unknown reason, or perhaps House saw the anxiety and frustration in Chase's expression, but he was prompted to add, in somewhat a gentler tone, "She'll be perfectly fine, divine intervention notwithstanding."

To tell the truth, Chase almost welcomed the distraction of House's acerbic comments; it made the whole situation seem more real, and at the same time less dire. He would have played right along, if he hadn't suddenly remembered exactly _why _Cameron was currently lying unconscious before them. The memory came with a surge of anger towards House, and Chase chose not to reply, instead crossing the room so that he ended up on the other side of Cameron.

He realized his mistake too late: the new arrangement meant that he had to stand facing House if he wanted to keep watch over Cameron. The undercurrents in the room might have changed from concerned to hostile, then, if not for the return of Dr. Lin.

She recognized Chase and gave him a compassionate smile when she saw how upset he looked. They'd worked together before; Chase regularly had ICU rounds at PPTH, though he was officially in House's department of diagnostics. Intensivists were hard to come by, after all.

"A lucky accident, or lucky as far as these things go," she said, passing the x-rays to Chase's eager hands. She spared House a curious glance, obviously having heard some of the constant rumors in the hospital. "No fractures on hip or ribs showed up, although her arm was obviously broken, not by the direct impact of the car, but when she fell. A clean break, though. She should regain consciousness soon, but she's suffered a pretty serious concussion."

Chase nodded, feeling his stomach lurch alarmingly when Dr. Lin's words triggered the memory of how he had heard the sound of Cameron's head striking the floor, a sound that was not quite lost beneath the squeal of car tires. Maybe he had only imagined it from what he'd visually seen, but either way, it was fresh and vivid in his thoughts.

"She'll need a CT scan, of course, but I thought I'd leave that to you guys. Of course, strictly speaking, I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm sure you'll be pleased," Dr. Lin concluded, looking from House to Chase, as if unsure whom to really address.

"Dr. Foreman's coming in," House replied, effectively securing her attention. "I paged him. As a neurologist, I'm pretty confident he can handle any trauma she might have suffered."

Dr. Lin's lips flattened into a thin line, clearly indicating that she didn't appreciate his flippant tone, but then, unexpectedly, she broke out into a smile. Humor was rare in her department, after all – even though House might be something more like an acquired taste.

"Well, she's officially yours," she said, nodding her head to Chase before she swept out of the room, leaving the two doctors alone again, with nothing to quite dispel the tension that had unexpectedly risen between them.

It could have been the cause of a very genuine regret between them, simply because deep down, they rather liked each other. Chase had his own reasons, of course, and he knew that they were about as logical as mixing Freud with vodka. He knew it was unhealthy to place too much in House, knew that he shouldn't let every older superior fall into the gap that his father had left in him, in vain hope of finding the right replacement. None of that really altered his actions, in the end. Maybe one day something would force a drastic change, but for now, and no amount of knowing _why _and _how _changed what simply _was_.

In comparison, House's affection toward Chase seemed pretty straightforward. Foreman offered some interest, but beneath that exterior he was strictly by the book. He had ideals and beliefs that he sometimes would bend the rules for, but overall, Foreman was predictable in his reactions. Cameron was about the same, if the exact opposite in terms of empathy. Of course, Cameron had other qualities that appealed to House, but on the whole, she was easy to understand, if sometimes a little inconsistent.

Then there was Chase, the most troubled of the three, and, oddly, the most interesting. House had expected otherwise, but then again, being the son of Rowan Chase called for the development of something different. His initial stereotyped profile – rich, white, daddy's son trying to live up to the name, was entirely correct. But it did leave out a lot of other fascinating things, which naturally made House want to torture Chase, just a little of course, with the same morbid curiosity that made people trap things and then poke them. Chase was full of contradictions, missing information. House made it his hobby to find that information, and the more Chase resisted, the more House was intrigued.

Despite knowing that Cameron had already been subject to a very professional and thorough physical examination, Chase couldn't resist checking again, even under House's impenetrable gaze. They would have to wait until she regained consciousness, of course, but there were certain types of fractures to the base of the skull he could look for. Chase leaned over Cameron to look for bruising around the eyes or behind the ears, an almost totally unnecessary action, but one that gave him something to do.

It wasn't until he straightened again that Chase suddenly realized that House had probably thought that he was going to kiss Cameron. He briefly contemplated trying to explain himself, and then thought, _bloody hell_. He hadn't done a single thing wrong, so there was no reason to act like a guilty schoolboy caught kissing the teacher's daughter. He was rather sick of being misinterpreted.

Generally he didn't care too much about what others thought of him, all too aware that most people viewed the world through eyes trained by society to stereotype, to generalize, and to force life into convenient black and white. House took a perverse pleasure in doing all of the above, but only on a basic level so that others underestimated him; he was too intelligent to confine himself to such limited views.

"Did you really page Foreman?" Chase ventured after a few uncomfortable moments spent staring at nothing. The question was more to break the silence than out of any real doubt.

"Why should _he _get his beauty sleep?" House griped, but for an instant Chase was almost sure that the other doctor was just as relieved as he was that they were talking. "I called Wilson, too."

"For what? He's an _oncologist_. There's no point in making him worry about Cameron until he comes in the next morning."

"He's coming now," House said with an almost evil smile. "You know, you might say that I'm his savior."

"Savior from…?"

"A night of mushy romance at an overly-expensive restaurant with poor wines," House said all in one breathless whisper, leaning closer to Chase as if entrusting a state secret. He straightened a moment later and spoke in a more normal voice. "Actually, savior from his wife."

Chase rolled his eyes but couldn't keep his mouth from dropping open from surprised when Wilson walked into the room at that moment, accompanied by a rumpled looking Foreman. They looked appropriately worried and when they moved to look at Cameron, Chase abruptly found out that he didn't want to share her with anyone.

"Ironically, it's the guy you diagnosed with rabies today," Wilson said. "Guess you should have been a little nicer to him."

"What guy?" House said. "Where is he, anyway?"

"They called in the police. The bastard even tried to make a run for it, once he realized that he'd hit someone."

Chase hadn't even begun to think about the man who had caused the accident in the first place. He remembered how the car had come tearing down from the second level, with absolutely no regard for the speed limit in the parking structure, and saw his sentiments mirrored on House and Foreman's faces. With some effort, he refocused his thoughts on the immediate tasks.

_Please, let there be no serious head trauma_, he found himself thinking as Cameron underwent the CT scan. Cuddy dropped by and seemed to bring an aura of authority and order simply with her presence; she helped sooth everyone's frayed nerves. Halfway through, Chase was struck by how unreal it all seemed, and almost expected Cameron to wake and say that this was all a joke. He supposed it would really sink in later. They all scrutinized the cross-sectional x-rays, looking for evidence of bleeding, but found nothing serious.

"Luckiest accident I ever saw," Foreman said after the CT scans. "Bruised her ribs, and what looks like a miniscule skull fracture." He was stating what everyone already knew, but they could afford some indulgence now. Saying it seemed to help downplay Cameron's narrow miss from the multitude of injuries they knew she could have had, so they all quietly listened to Foreman's official report.

When Chase thought of everything else that could have happened, his blood ran cold. Paralysis, spinal chord damage – there were at least a good dozen more things that ran through his mind like they did when he was going over a patient's case.

"Scratched up her arms pretty badly, of course," Foreman finished, and then paused. "All she has to worry about is the concussion. Cuddy's already informed the people listed as her contacts, but since it's probably minor, we didn't want to alarm them. They live out of state, apparently. Chase, do you know if she has a friend to call?"

"What? Why are you asking _me_?"

"You get along famously with Cameron, don't you?"

That statement might have provoked some kind of reaction from either House or Chase, except at that moment Chase remembered something. "She was supposed to be waiting for a friend to pick her up. That's why she was sitting in the parking lot."

"What exactly happened, anyway?" Foreman asked. "I didn't get any of the details."

"Like I said, she was waiting for a friend, so I was waiting with her." Aware that House was listening intently, Chase tried to be as stoic as possible, but his tone was slightly defensive when he added, "She was alone, I couldn't just leave her."

"I was walking, the guy was driving, and Cameron decided to be the heroine," House said when Foreman turned curious eyes to him. "She tackled me."

"He dropped his cane, so he was stuck in the middle of the road," Chase added unhelpfully, but decided that they'd provided enough about the drama. "Why isn't she awake yet?"

Foreman gave him a searching look, but didn't point out the fact that Chase didn't need to be asking questions like that. "She should wake up pretty soon, but if she's out any longer then we'll have to worry. Getting back to my point when I was asking whether she had a friend to call – what we need is some 24 hour supervision over the next two days, in case anything develops. If not, she's probably safe. We should find out what happened to the friend she was waiting for. Otherwise, I'll call the nursing department and see if they can arrange anything for now."

"It's okay," Chase interrupted. "I can take her back to her apartment and stay over with her. She doesn't live that far from me."

"And how are you going to get in?" Wilson asked curiously, having heard Chase's last words when he came in. He looked back and forth between Chase and House, as if expecting to need to break up some kind of brawl. Chase gave him a disdainful glance.

"I have a key and even if I didn't, I can use hers. Don't be an idiot." Okay, so the circumstances leading Chase to having a key to Cameron's apartment were a little more complicated than that, but no one needed to know the whole story. Chase actually enjoyed the look on Foreman and Wilson's faces until he made the mistake of looking at House.

"My, my, I didn't know you were _that _kind of friend," House drawled. "I'm hurt. Don't Foreman and I deserve an invite to your little orgies in the backyard?"

Amusement evaporating, Chase looked at House coolly, and decided he wasn't about to spend the next five hours explain this to his coworkers' satisfaction. Instead, he tried using the condensed version. "She gave it to me so I'd have a place to crash if I ever needed one. Her place is closer to here than mine."

"But you just said you live close together."

Chase gave the hapless Foreman a cold stare. House was impressed in spite of himself. He hadn't known that Chase had had it in him. "Look, I'm not going to stand here all day spending my time arguing how and why Cameron gave me her key. If everything's checked out, I'll be taking her home now." He started out of the room.

"Well, isn't House more qualified?" Open mouth, insert foot, House thought with amusement that soon dissipated when he saw the look on Chase's face. The boy was in over his head and he didn't even realize it.

"Why, because he dumped her and broke her heart?"

That was admittedly a low blow and House's face showed it for a brief moment. Only a moment, so perhaps Chase had imagined it, simply because it would have been so expected on anyone else. The emotion that had flickered in those blue eyes hadn't been hurt, anyway, it had been more like…Chase struggled to put a word to what he had seen, and finally came up with _irritation_. Not exactly the usual response, to say the least, but it didn't matter, because House had recovered quite well.

"Ohh, Chase. That stung." He dramatically took a step back as if hurt.

Foreman looked between the two, hardly able to believe that House was even capable of showing jealousy. It seemed like he had just realized that he'd lost something he hadn't though he valued so much. It was hard to tell who was winning.

There might have really been a fight if Cameron hadn't woken up right then, but she did. "Chase?" she asked, obviously seeing him first. She tried to turn her head to look at the others but made a small pained cry.

"What is it?" Chase, Foreman, and House asked all more or less simultaneously. It brought a slight smile to her lips.

"I feel like—" When she stopped abruptly, they exchanged worried glances with Foreman, but Cameron caught the look. "No, no. I was just going to say I felt like I was hit by a truck, but that would be redundant, wouldn't it?"

"Well, our girl hasn't lost her sense of humor, " House said dryly. "You also have a broken arm, and a mild concussion."

She turned to look at him, though she winced. "Did anything happen to you? Are you all right?"

Listening, Chase thought her voice betrayed too much. The anxiety, the fear, didn't quite hide the feelings she still clearly had for House. Tonight only proved it in a more dramatic way.

Foreman, as the neurologist, moved to exam her. Cameron submitted meekly as he checked the dilation of her pupils under light and continued with the regular routine.

In response to Cameron's continued questioning, House made a little, mocking bow. "In perfect condition, thanks to the local heroine. I always knew you were crazy, but I never realized to what extent until you deliberately ran in front of a truck."

"_Anyway,_" Foreman said, pointedly clearing his throat, "we were just discussing the arrangements for your care. I suppose you could really just stay here, but I'm sure you would rather be home while you're recuperating."

"I'm fine," Cameron said immediately.

"Regardless, you'll need supervision for a couple of days," Foreman insisted, although looking resigned to argument.

Sometime during Chase and House's not-so-friendly repartee, Wilson had left without anyone really noticing his absence. He rejoined them now, taking in the scene with a quick glance. He greeted Cameron, and then turned to Foreman, though ordinarily he would have probably spoken to House.

"The friend that Cameron was waiting for apparently didn't show up, or at least Cuddy checked and she isn't anywhere around," he said.

"My offer stands," Chase said, appealing to Foreman as the default doctor in charge. House was about to make some remark to that, but Foreman interrupted with a gesture towards both of them. "Let's be good doctors and discuss her condition next door."

"Wait a minute, you can do that right _here_," Cameron protested.

"Sorry, not yet. We'll be back in a minute." Foreman swept out, completely ignoring the glare he was receiving from Cameron, and House and Chase followed blithely. But not before House gave Cameron the sort of irritating smile that explained why so many patients tried to hit him. Wilson observed everything, but decided to keep Cameron company.

Once in the hallway, Foreman stopped and looked seriously at both House and Chase. "Okay, I think this should be Cameron's choice," he said. "So I would really appreciate it if both of you just backed off."

He held up his hands to cut off protests from both of them. "I really don't care. Cameron deserves some peace here, so we're going into that room in a minute, I'm going to ask her what she wants, and you two will be considerate enough to keep your mouths shut through the whole thing."

True to his word, he turned before either could say anything, and Chase and House followed him obediently into the room after a moment. Foreman was already talking to Cameron.

"Bear with me while I give you the spiel, even though I know you know this. Anyway, postconcussive syndrome is seen in about ten percent of people who have a concussion. Yours was pretty mild, so it's highly doubtful you'll have any symptoms, but the main effect is a headache for a couple of weeks or longer. If you have headaches, just take some ibuprofen or acetaminophen."

"Why can't you just say Tylenol?" Cameron grumbled.

"Because he's a neurologist. That's the common name for people wacky in the head," House quipped. Foreman let it slide; Chase was surprised House was still able to function with so much wit. Of course, he wasn't nearly as sleep-deprived as his ducklings.

"Do you have anyone you want with you for the next couple of days? They'll need to wake you up regularly." Foreman saw Cameron's exasperated look and added firmly, "Just don't argue with me, all right? We're all dead tired. I suggest that you stay here; it'd be easier."

"Chase is fine," Cameron said, voice rather faint and not looking at either Chase or House. "He has a key."

"We know," Foreman said wryly.

"I'm not going to say here for another minute if my life depended on it," she mumbled tiredly. "I'm so sick of this place." She got up with some help from Chase, who was now officially granted permission to take care of her.

"I _can _walk," she said almost grouchily, and turned to glare at Foreman and House, who were looking too interested in their interaction. Chase tried not to feel too triumphant, reminding himself that it would be better if Cameron hadn't been in this situation in the first place. The cast on her arm sobered him; regardless of how minor her concussion, she didn't escape unharmed.

"Even if you couldn't, I could carry you," he said back to Cameron with a boyish smile, falling back into the comfortable rapport they'd developed over the past couple of weeks. It was just ridiculous enough to top off the stressful day, and he enjoyed the rare sound of her laugh.

It didn't matter what anyone else thought. Foreman, House, Wilson, heck, even Cuddy could stare as much as they wanted. The rumor mill could work overtime. He didn't care, and it looked as if neither did she.

xxxxx

Some time later, proper paperwork signed, they made it out of PPTH and into Chase's car. He had never felt so glad to leave the place and was wondering if they would absolutely need to show up for work tomorrow. Cameron obviously didn't, but he doubted House was feeling lenient in any sort of way towards him right now.

"You should've just let me take you home instead of waiting for your nonexistent friend," he half-scolded her, recalling the whirlwind of feelings he'd experienced in the past few hours.

"I don't know what happened with Jessica. Probably spending a late night out with her boyfriend," Cameron sighed. "I don't know her that well, actually."

"Exactly my point." Despite everything, Chase still had the energy to summon up a smile, and when she returned it, he thought he might forgive her for taking him on the day's emotional roller coaster after all.

Opening the door of her apartment, something shifted irrevocably, something simply changed. Perhaps it was the sudden awareness that they were alone and that Chase was going to spend the night over, something he had never done before. The truth was, there was a sort of tacit agreement between them and Cameron had only given him her key less than a week ago.

He stood awkwardly besides the door while she disappeared into her bedroom, obviously not having thought this through. Well, there was the couch. Chase eyed the plushy two seats and wondered if he could fit.

"Chase?"

"Yeah. I'll be on your couch. Wake you every hour."

Cameron briefly reappeared with extra blankets, and he got up hastily to take them from her. "Sorry I don't have a better place for you to sleep."

"It's fine." He set the alarm on his cell phone for every hour – this was going to be hell for both of them – and replied to Cameron's drowsy goodnight.

She sounded as if she were already half asleep, and Chase found that, comfortable or not, his level of exhaustion more than made up for the fact that the cramped space made him feel overgrown.

He slipped off in a deep, dreamless sleep that had never felt more welcome.

xxxxx

As promised, he managed to wake up, and to force Cameron awake every hour, which involved a great deal of protesting, many words that he was surprised were in her vocabulary, and the discovery that Cameron was almost violently opposed to being woken. She ignored shouting, she ignored shaking, and the first time around, Chase had actually gotten worried, thinking that there was something seriously wrong with her. That just turned out to be naturally Cameron, though.

Halfway through the night, he woke to a piercing scream that seemed to reverberate in his head endlessly. Completely forgetting where he was, Chase rolled right off the narrow couch and then tried to scramble to his feet, muscles stiff from their long-held unnatural position.

Bursting into Cameron's room, Chase expected to see some sort of dark assailant standing over her or something equally fantastical. It was too dark to make out anything, but having been in here a few times before, he knew where everything approximately was. He charged to the bedside, heart pounding, and nearly fell onto her as light suddenly flooded the room with the sharp click of a lamp.

There was no one there, of course. She was already awake and sitting up, looking quite chagrined at Chase's expression. "Sorry, nightmare. It was probably brought on by the concussion," she said apologetically, putting a hand on his arm. "They're known to cause night terrors."

He managed to find his voice and managed to keep a relatively neutral-sounding tone. "Yeah. You can imagine what I _thought_ it was, though."

Color tinged her cheekbones and he felt slightly bad for making her embarrassed. All in all, it wasn't fair. _He _was the one who had been scared out of his wits, but she was the one that seemed wronged.

"Well, back to the couch, then." The damn uncomfortable couch that he probably would never recover from. He'd have back problems later on that could be traced back to this exact couch in Cameron's apartment. Come to think of it, Chase decided he would try the floor this time around.

"Chase?" Her voice was extremely hesitant, more so than he had ever heard her. He turned around and looked at her in inquiry.

"The bed's enormous. I mean, it wouldn't bother me if you slept on the other side. We could probably get lost in here."

He tried hard not to gape, unsure whether to be elated that she felt safe enough to offer, or pissed because she felt safe enough to offer. He had officially been written off on her 'friend only' list, apparently. Sure, it was a king sized bed, but _really_. He wouldn't have expected something like this from Cameron in a thousand years.

Her smile was fading, and Chase suddenly realized that she was waiting for an answer. "Um, well, sure." Not the most intelligent response ever, but he considered it a victory to get anything coherent out. If she had asked him his name at that point, it would have come out somewhere between a "Duh" and "What?"

Chase cautiously slipped into the bed, balanced precariously near the edge. The sheets were cold; she wasn't kidding when she said that it was a big bed. Cameron used up about a fourth of it, he estimated. They'd never even touch.

"Thanks for everything, Robert," she whispered when she'd turned the lamp off again, the delicate sound sending chills up his spine. It echoed the first night that started the friendship between them, with just one significant change.

He'd never appreciated his name more.

Chase lay awake long enough to hear her breathing smooth out into the even rhythm of someone asleep, thoughts busy in his head. He was still tired, but he couldn't stop going over the implications of Cameron's unusual behavior today. First of all, accepting him into her apartment was a _whoa_ factor right there, but then she'd completely floored him. Granted, Cameron was probably half asleep and so on, but…

She'd invited him into her home. Her sanctuary. She returned here to be herself, not Cameron-the-doctor, not Cameron in PPTH, but just…Allison. And he was Robert.

Agonizing over it would be useless. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told himself he wouldn't do. He was glad to be Cameron's friend, glad they had been getting closer, glad that he could name her current favorite band and favorite type of ice cream. So why couldn't he just leave it at that?

_Because she means more to you than that, _was his last troubled thought before he drifted off to another hour's worth of much-needed sleep.

xxxxx

A/N: First of all, sorry for the late update! I have so much good stuff planned out for the future – in fact, almost five chapters' worth of rough sketching. I really want to get to them since I'm pretty sure you'll like them. Anyway, I just wanted to say that the rest of this story will be better that what's been posted already and the chapters will be longer, too. I originally started off this story as kind of an experiment to toss some C/C into the sea of H/C and slash, but inspiration struck. So, I'll be editing a lot, and hopefully updates will be more regular. While you're waiting, check out my other C&C oneshots if you haven't already. And, please, **please review! **


	6. Mystery

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement intended.

**Chapter 6: Mystery**

_Perhaps men just aren't equipped to handle these situations_, Chase thought the next morning, when he had woken up and realized that he could see the sleeping form of Allison Cameron from across the meager space between them.

His brain then immediately and quite logically pointed out that _that_ meant that he was sharing a bed with her. At which point, as if overwhelmed with the ramifications of that fact, it promptly did the impossible: it both shut down and raced with inane thoughts.

After all, this was pretty much the trite scene from some C-grade movie, right? Except that they hadn't gotten drunk, hadn't been married in Las Vegas, and, regrettably, were not currently wrapped around each other…

Chase let his gaze rest on the curve of Cameron's hip, outlined nicely by the extra large T-shirt that served as her pajamas, and decided that he'd ventured into a dangerous area for his overactive imagination. The rumpled sheets covered little and instead looked almost artfully arranged, drawing his attention to the graceful line of her bare arm, currently thrown around a pillow in a loose hug.

Of course, her _other_ arm was broken and immobilized in a cast, which was reminded Chase that he was here for a reason, and not just to enjoy Cameron's company. She probably wouldn't appreciate waking up and finding him next to her, either. He scrambled out of bed, slamming his elbow against the dresser next to it in his hurry, and reflected ruefully as pain shot up his arm that pretty much everything in his life was somehow connected to his job.

Take this morning, for example. Instead of waking up next to the girl of his dreams after a night of hot, wild sex… Well, the point was, he had spent the last night repeatedly waking up a grumpy Cameron to make sure the concussion wasn't causing anything more serious, and ended up invited into her bed because he'd been playing doctor for her. It was about as far from romantic as it could get, and hardly restful for either of them.

He wandered out to the kitchen and resisted the urge to plop down on the small sofa that had been the bane of his existence last night. They'd gotten back to Cameron's apartment around two in the morning, and all in all, he'd gotten about five hours of very interrupted sleep. Knowing House, the bastard probably wanted Chase to return to the hospital as early as possible – especially since House had paged Chase an hour ago, a sure sign that some case had caught his interest.

Chase was rather of the opinion that he deserved a break after the physical and emotional tolls of yesterday, however. His eyes felt gritty; he was most definitely not a morning person and usually needed a shower to wake him up. Of course, he could only imagine Cameron's reaction if she woke up and stumbled in on him while he was using her shower.

His thoughts veered in a decidedly wayward direction, and Chase distracted himself by familiarizing himself with the kitchen and locating the coffee. Generally he preferred tea, but coffee had become rather like an acquired taste, and it was Cameron's drink of choice. House being unreasonable or otherwise, Chase wasn't planning on showing up at PPTH anytime soon, and he thought that he'd drop by his own place to change and shower if he could, first. The only question was, would it be better to leave Cameron a note for her to find when she woke up, or stay here until she did?

It was potentially embarrassing to stay, he knew that much. Remembering snatches of his midnight arguments with Cameron while trying to get her awake brought a reluctant smile to his face, but the truth was, last night had changed things. Their friendship, or whatever was between them, had shifted again—and Chase wasn't entirely sure that it was for the better.

He'd known that it was dangerous to try to be closer to her, even as a friend. After a couple months of trying various ways to end his attraction with her, Chase had realized that it wasn't something that would easily fade away as an infatuation. After all, he had tried to distance himself from her, had genuinely tried to date other people, and had even watched Cameron get together with House, all to no avail. He couldn't identify what it was, but he knew what it was not, and it wasn't love. If anything, it was a certain fascination. A certain weakness when it came to her, like she was one of his vulnerable spots, and as such, provoked a sense of self-preservation.

Despite that awareness, Chase hadn't resisted when Cameron had begun to accept him as a friend. He hadn't drawn away when Cameron had begun to give him confidences, instead listening to her memories of House through a haze of mingled guilt and vicarious pleasure. True, he offered little about himself to her in return, but he had plenty of reasons for that.

Chase had had plenty of time to ruminate on every aspect of this Cameron thing. Maybe even too much time, because after his mother's death, he had realized that one of the most dangerous things he could do was analyze too much. He'd thought about his father a lot, about what he could have done to close the gap, about whether he _wanted _to close the gap, or whether it was simply better to let go.

This habit of thinking too much applied to Cameron, too. Everything from imagining what it would be like if they actually got together, to the opposite extreme: returning to somewhat friendly, but purely professional co-workers. Sometimes he felt like it was as if he could see a hole in front of him, but was drawn to it anyway, even knowing that he was destined to trip and fall. All in all, whatever delicate equilibrium he'd achieved with Cameron as they'd become friends no longer applied. So what were they now?

He had nursed his way through a cup of coffee and almost fifteen minutes. Absently, Chase rose to wash the cup, seeing signs of Cameron everywhere in the apartment. He had hoped that there would be a picture of Cameron's husband, someone he had heard about frequently but who had remained a faceless but good-looking entity in his mind. She had probably put them all away after she had started dating House. There were no pictures of House, either. In fact, there were no pictures of any male friends, but many pictures of Cameron within a group of friends, and Cameron with someone whom he assumed to be her mother.

"Good morning," came Cameron's clear voice, greeting him casually enough. Chase turned around to find that she had finally emerged from the bedroom. Not knowing exactly what to say, Chase mumbled a passable reply and handed her a cup, belatedly realizing that she would have to do everything one handed because of her injury. He watched her pour, add sugar and cream, and then stir, all without mishap.

"Did House page you too?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

She looked surprised. "No, did a case come in?"

"Yeah." He had rarely seen her when she was this relaxed, still half-asleep and adorable. She had changed into a black top, and watching her run her fingers through not-quite-messy curls now made him want to do the same.

"You all right?" he asked, hearing her wince when she touched part of her head and seeing all over again how her head had hit the ground so sharply. She caught his eye and gave him a slightly quizzical glance, inspired no doubt because of his stare, so he looked down at his watch to give himself something to do. Late, very late—even if he didn't care on House's account, he had a duty to the patient to get there soon.

"Yeah…perfectly fine," she said. "It's just tender. We should probably get going. PPTH isn't far from here, but the traffic gets bad on some mornings."

"We?" he asked mildly, but Chase was already bracing himself. Her stance had transformed from languid to nearly militant, and the predatory smile she aimed at him told him all that he needed to know.

"So, what's the case about?" she asked.

"I turned off my cell phone ages ago." Chase played along, pretty sure where this was going. "Anyway, now that you're up, I'm going back to my place to change and shower before I submit myself to House's beck and call. If you need anything, let me know."

"I'm not going to stay in bed all day, you know," Cameron said, completely ignoring him.

"Right. Of course you won't, just because you almost lost your life yesterday in a car accident, and _did _suffer a major concussion, severe bruising, and a broken arm. You're not coming to work today, Allison."

"I didn't say anything about work," she interjected before he could continue giving his lecture.

"Well…don't even think about it," he said, only half-joking. At her odd look, he shrugged, feeling uncomfortably as if he'd overstepped his bounds, and then slightly annoyed that she'd given him that impression with just a glance. Friends looked out for each other, didn't they?

The thing with Cameron was that even as they grew closer, she gave him the feeling that she'd rather that he keep far, far away—as if she were only tolerating this relationship that he kept on trying to label as friendship. He couldn't shrug off the fear that if he simply stopped trying, she wouldn't even care.

The annoyance quickly faded to something harder for him to admit. He should have been irritated by the fact that he couldn't quite call her friend, but instead Chase just felt wistful. They had passed that level but hadn't reached another one that could be labeled with conventional terms. Stranger, acquaintance, friend, and then what?

xxxxx

House was not happy. Not that he was usually happy, but House was not happy in a way that made Chase realize that this had the potential to be one of the worst days of his life. He fully expected some dire things to happen, like receiving patients who would later be revealed to have contracted the first cases of a widespread and quickly mutating strain of the avian flu epidemic. Of course, if that _did _happen, he could always at least say that it was all Cameron's fault.

It didn't take a genius to realize that while House obviously wasn't happy with Chase, he was even more obviously and even more 'not happy'that Chase had spent the night with Cameron. Foreman seemed to think that Chase was naturally blind, because he took great pains onto himself to call Chase's attention to House's antics, succeeding only in irritating House even more.

Fortunately, there was ample distraction for House in the form of a very sick eight-year-old boy who had been admitted to the ER at approximately 03:00. As Foreman gave Chase the boy's files, Chase couldn't help but feel slightly avenged when he realized that House had probably come in around six in the morning because of the new case. He couldn't have gotten much sleep either, not with the accident last night.

Chase looked down at the charts while Foreman continued briefing him and had to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. His saving grace was aptly named Jesús Arrieta Barandiarán. He winced at the long name, feeling some empathy for the kid who had been loaded with it at birth – his own full name was even worse, thanks to the fact that both his father and mother had come from old money, with accompanying old-fashioned naming conventions.

"He complained to his father of acute chest pains concentrated around the lower ribs, sometimes lasting up to a minute. The pain is paroxysmal and the patient reported that he had difficulty breathing. The father also mentioned that his son had said he had a constant, dull chest pain for at least a few days now, but that he didn't think it was anything serious." Foreman paused while Chase flipped through the kid's history. For someone only eight years old, he had a rather thick file, and it was easy to see a pattern after a few moments.

"Have you ruled out abuse yet?" Chase asked. His left hand had unconsciously formed into a fist, and he deliberately uncurled his fingers. If there was anything that especially got to him, it was child abuse, but he'd never shared that bit of knowledge with anyone else.

"First thing that I thought of too, but if you go through the reports more carefully, you'll see that there's never any evidence. The boy seemed to be comfortable with his father—at least, as much as you can be when you're in his condition—and there's more I haven't told you."

Chase relaxed and let himself privately chuckle at Foreman's absorption. Sometimes he thought that of the three of them, Foreman was best suited to the job, simply because he enjoyed the intellectual challenge of diagnosis so much. "Well, don't keep me waiting breathlessly."

"The father brought Jesús in two times already this year because of chest pain. Neither resulted in any sort of diagnosis." As he talked, Foreman gestured for Chase to follow him out of the conference room, no doubt to see the patient in person.

"The boy who cried wolf?" Chase muttered, reading various accounts of hospital visits ending with no findings of illness. Foreman had to stop him from crashing into a nurse; they were walking at a fairly brisk pace, but Chase was focused on the papers he held. "That wouldn't have caught House's interest though, unless he's suddenly decided to pick on kids who have the unfortunate tendency to lie about their health."

"It could be simply something that's been going through phases of remission and exacerbation," Foreman pointed out. "Granted, I think the kid _has _lied about some of this stuff—supposed pneumonia, phantom abdominal pain, and all. The father said a lot of it started after his mother died about a year and a half ago. Must have been hard to deal with, especially since he would've had to cope with being a single parent and all."

"But Jesús isn't lying this time," Chase finished for Foreman. "Or at least, House doesn't think so, and you don't either."

Foreman shrugged. "The boy's tricks, or whatever they were, stopped except for the doctor's appointments on the chest pain. Talk to the kid yourself. He's been quiet for a couple of hours, but when he ended up in the ER, he was still having attacks, so I guess his father was convinced that something really was wrong. You have to remember that the boy who cried wolf eventually ended up with a real wolf."

Chase entered the room, expecting Foreman to follow, but the other doctor left them alone, probably to find House. He had anticipated Jesús to be sleeping since the child probably had been up all night and could get some rest now while the pain was gone. Instead, Chase walked into an argument, which fortunately stopped almost the minute he opened the door. He had caught enough to surmise that it was about the Jesús's truthfulness regarding his most recent pains.

Jesús would have been well taken care of, but it couldn't hurt to do extra routine checks, so Chase worked as he introduced himself to his young patient and spoke with the father. With Cameron gone, he was most likely to be tapped for House for an in-depth history and account of current family life, so it was best to establish himself as friendly and caring early on to offset whatever tensions might arise from the questioning later.

"Your son has a fever," he told Carlos as he gave two pills to Jesús to alleviate that immediate problem. It would go onto the board of symptoms, however, and it couldn't hurt to start the ball rolling again. Appropriate heart rate response to the fever, Chase also noted: tachycardia.

Jesús had been in House's domain for three hours, so Chase knew a lot had already been extracted from him and his father. House must have fumed when he realized that both Chase and Cameron were gone—Foreman was generally _not _the one to be talking to the patient, given that his bedside manner was generally the least pleasant of the three. Of course, Foreman was still popular compared to House.

"Are you any closer to finding out what is wrong with him?" Carlos was asking. His son interrupted to ask for some more water.

"Does anything besides your chest hurt right now?" Chase asked as he handed the cup over.

"My throat hurts," was the accented reply. A common enough complaint, and Chase reminded himself that with this particular patient, they would have to double-check all of the symptoms before doing a differential diagnosis. Pharyngitis was already was already noted in the chart, however, in Foreman's crabbed writing.

Before Chase could continue with the questioning, Jesús suddenly cried out, body arching from the bed and arms encircling his own chest. Carlos rushed to the bedside from his nearby chair as Chase grabbed at Jesús before the boy could roll off the bed. Almost before it began, it was over and Jesús went limp in his grip, tears of pain squeezed from his dark Spanish eyes.

Chase was positive that what he had just seen was no act.

xxxxx

Whatever else his attraction to Cameron did, Chase thought as his eyes met Foreman's over the conference table, at least it didn't interfere with his job—one that regularly involved the dangerous stakes of other people's lives, as they all well knew. It was more than House could say, as his bad mood over Chase and Cameron seemed to have tripled in a surprisingly short amount of time, probably due with some drama with Stacy and Stacy's ever-present (if only mentally), irritating husband. Chase wasn't a big fan of House lately but _something_ about Mark made even House preferable, at least in Chase's eyes.

"Some of the usual tests are still running," Foreman said in response to House's unspoken question. The older doctor continued to list out symptoms on the whiteboard, and Chase looked over at them. Severe chest pain, fever, pharyngitis/sore throat, and abdominal pain. The last had a question mark next to it. It was a very short list to work with.

"Nothing of much interest to note, otherwise. We really can't do a diagnosis until more information comes back," Chase pointed out. He read over the notes again, unsurprised to find that House had delved into the cause of death for the mother, which had been cancer. "Especially given Jesús's penchant for ending up in the hospital with no more than a cold."

"So after you were observed him during an attack, you still think he's lying?" House asked. The expression on his face strongly suggested that he was amused by Chase, at which point Chase realized that it was because he had fallen into his habit of playing with a retractable pen. _Oral fixation, Chase? _The back of his neck still burned from the mere thought of that comment and the string of other comments it had inspired—allusions to Shakira's _Fijación Oral_, and the like—and House had first made it two months ago.

"No, actually…" Chase trailed off, forgetting what he was about to say when he spotted Cameron through the clear glass doors a minute before she joined them. House looked unsurprised, but Foreman at least looked concerned.

"What are _you _doing here?" Foreman blurted out.

"Hey, I didn't come empty-handed," she said calmly while Chase and Foreman, at least, gaped at her. "I picked up the test results."

A small part of Chase had been expecting this all along, but he hadn't truly thought that she would follow through with it. Surely she had enough common sense to take it easy for at least a _day _after an accident like that. With all the bruising, and that was only because she was lucky she hadn't had any fractures, she had to be stiff and sore today.

Correctly reading Chase's thoughts, she took a seat and sighed, pain flickering over her delicate features. "If this is what being a battered woman feels like, I'm doubling my donation to the foundation from now on."

"What do you suppose you're going to do here, Cameron?" Chase said, a protective anger washing over him even as he tried to ignore it. It wasn't his place, he reminded himself. Cameron was an adult, fully independent and capable, and he would only infuriate her if he did the outraged male act right now. Not that he wasn't feeling it, but he had enough sense to clamp down on his instincts.

"My arm might be broken, but my mind isn't," she retorted. "Yeah, I'm bruised and sore, and my arm is in a cast, but physically there isn't anything wrong with me that warrants staying away from work. If we were in between cases, I might take a day off to humor you guys, but we're not, and I'm not about to be sent home, either."

"No need to get defensive, Cameron," House interjected before she could go on. "Regardless of what Chase and Foreman think, _I'm_ glad to have you here." The two glares that he received were ignored.

"Anyway, there's nothing from the tests that pop out," Cameron went on before her presence could become an issue. "Mild leukopenia for the white cell count. The findings on the chest radiography are normal except for a small amount of adjacent atelectasis from splinting. Chase, can I have the files?"

He handed them over wordlessly after she'd given the test results to House, puzzled by the glance she'd given him until he saw how avidly House was watching them. Foreman didn't even bother to hide his interest, which sharpened when Cameron's hand brushed casually against Chase's. What threw him most was that Cameron seemed to be encouraging it. She was even giving him a 'thank you' smile that veered on the edge of being flirtatious, one that hadn't escaped House's attention.

"The clinical presentation might suggestion serositis caused by systemic lupus erythematosus," Foreman said blithely into the silence. "I've reviewed the facts of the case and it would be rare, all right. But improbable does not mean impossible."

"Then we should do an antinuclear antibody test," Chase answered, his mind supplying the procedure even has he kept part of it focused on this strange new Cameron.

"It isn't lupus," House growled at Foreman. They debated over it for a few minutes until Foreman conceded his mistake, which left Chase with nothing but his thoughts.

Could House really be right—that the reason why he was so unsure around Cameron had less to do with _his _motives and desires and more to do with Cameron wanting to use him to make House jealous? The entire thought was so convoluted and Machiavellian he nearly gave it up immediately. But House had said it, hadn't he? Chase had nothing to do with it; he was just caught up in the game that the two of them were playing.

"The only thing that stands out is the chest pain," Cameron said meditatively once Foreman had surrendered, and Chase forced himself to concentrate at the task on hand. Their tangled private lives could be sorted out later. While Jesús's condition was at least stable, he was definitely not getting any better and would not until they found out what was wrong with him.

"So what causes chest pain?" House pressed them. "Mother died of cancer. It could have been at such a late stage that no one would have noticed if she'd been infected with something extra, say, a virus. But it all comes back to the chest pain."

"Pulmonary embolism," Chase offered. "His symptoms are nothing extraordinary that would suggest the presence of a virus, necessarily. Not every disease has to be rare to be difficult to diagnose."

"We should check for myocardial infarction, too," Cameron said. "Again, it fits all the symptoms. The problem is that we _don't _have anything too special that we can work off. Most of the tests are showing very regular results, and his complaints could cover something as regular as pneumonia. It could be viral, bacterial, or some kind of complication."

"We don't have enough to work with," Foreman agreed. "Too many possibilities to check for, but at least we have some time on our side. He's not getting any worse, as far as we can tell."

"Whine, whine, whine," House said, rolling his eyes. He tapped his marker on the whiteboard, looking over the symptoms. "Not enough information—well, there's a big, fancy word for that, and I'm sure you've run across it before. The symptoms are ordinary, but we already know it isn't the common cold. So start looking at the extraordinary. If the kid hasn't been lying, he could have had this as far back as a year ago, and it's only been coming up on and off the radar."

"It says here that they live in an one-room apartment," Cameron pointed out. Foreman had gotten some of that information already, and none of them were surprised to find such seemingly off-topic details in the report. House had taught them that nothing was too irrelevant to note. "Enteroviruses and nonpolio enteroviruses all cover the symptoms, and intrafamilial spread is common, especially due to poor sanitation or overcrowding. Chances are, if all the apartments in the complex are that tiny, and others have bigger families, well, it could easily bring us back to the virus."

"I'll go do a throat viral culture," Chase said, after Foreman volunteered to follow up on some of the possibilities.

"So Chase, was Cameron's apartment neat or messy?" House asked, an almost devilish light in his eyes. Clearly, he was hope to get some kind of reaction out of Chase, but Cameron stepped in before Chase could reply, and what she said took them all off guard.

"Oh, my bedroom's always messy, even if the rest of the apartment is neat. But I don't think Chase had any complaints about the bed," Cameron offered.

Chase felt his smile freeze in place as House raised a haughty eyebrow and Foreman couldn't quite hide a sound of surprise. "Chastely," he felt obliged to mumble, the word sounding even more ridiculous when he said it. "We slept together, ah—"

Cameron gave a secret, noncommittal smile that only made Chase feel cold. Did she truly want to use this as bait for House, to get some kind of rise out of him? This was a bit like waving a red flag at a bull. He waited until House had turned to the board before raising his eyes to Cameron's again.

_Why? _

She shook her head, tilting it slightly in the direction of House.

_Not now. I'll explain later._

It was the wrong place to pursue it, so Chase rose to his feet lightly, careful to give no indication of that brief, wordless interaction.

She had brought it up because House was there, and yet she didn't want Chase to know what was going on. If this was some scheme to incite jealousy, Cameron had better be careful, because weakness for her or not, Chase was not going to let himself be used as some kind of weapon against House. It didn't seem like Cameron at all. She had a good heart, she wasn't…well, she was different from all the other women he had gone out with before, and not just because he couldn't seem to get over her.

For once, he was happy that Cameron didn't follow him outside as he went to take the viral culture.

xxxxx

"Dr. Enterovirus, I presume?"

The allusion was not lost on Chase, but he had to admit it was a nice touch since House loved to needle him about his whiteness, if that was an adjective. As usual, however, House was correct. Jesús had remained hospitalized and had continued to have lancinating chest pain attacks, to put it in archaic medical vocabulary. The fever had remained, as had the abdominal pain, which had caused House to finally remove the question mark next to the symptom on the whiteboard. All things considered, it had been a fairly straightforward case, which was a good thing since Cameron was somewhat disabled.

"Given the age of the patient, I'd guess that it would be coxsackievirus B. It's too late to tell if Jesús's mother had indeed contracted it before she died, since she was in such a late stage of cancer and the RNA enterovirus almost always causes an asymptomatic upper respiratory tract infection," Chase reported.

"Not a good sign, since the younger they come, the more severe the disease is," Foreman sighed.

"If it _is_ coxsackievirus B, we want to know exactly what we're dealing with. Chase, I want you to do another viral culture for isolation. We do have some specific antibodies available for use in fluorescent staining and neutralization assays, so we'll want to further confirm and delineate the type of enteroviruses isolated from culture."

It was always a relief when they were getting closer to a certain diagnosis. Although Chase had already researched on coxsackievirus B and knew that there were no specific treatments, Jesús probably did not have a life-threatening case, or they would have had more problems to deal with. Once it was correctly diagnosed, the prognosis was very good.

"Meanwhile, Cameron, you can go tell Carlos the news," House continued. "Foreman, go with her and check if anyone else has been infected. Most people would shrug off any minor discomforts, but since this particular type may be largely asymptomatic, we have to make sure."

"Mention to Carlos that Jesús should not be given aspirin," Chase reminded Foreman. "Kids have the potential to develop Reye syndrome."

"What about you?" Cameron asked House. Chase and Foreman had long since given up, but Cameron always persisted in her efforts, at least in regards to that particular doctor.

House was already halfway out the door, but he turned around. "Lunch with Wilson and then a meeting with Stacy," he offered offhandedly, to Chase and Foreman's surprise.

The door was barely closed before Foreman laughed. House glared at them through the glass doors as they prepared to follow him—but to their assigned tasks, not to a secret rendezvous with a former lover. Chase, watching Cameron, sensed nothing unusual. So if Cameron didn't really care if House was having some kind of affair with Stacy, then what was going on?

She sensed his gaze on her and looked directly at him, probably reading the confusion he felt. They were heading different directions, so she didn't say anything but did give him yet another private, mysterious smile, meant to reassure.

Something clenched inside his chest for a moment, almost amusing him with the irony as he diligently took himself back to the task of making his patient well again. Chest pains, indeed.

xxxxx

A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, but this story is a little difficult for me to write, and I'm not exactly sure why. I think it might be because the pacing is slow and I wrote it to be more realistic than the usual drama and romance. I'm not sure if that's appealing or not to you guys, but it's a new sort of style for me. Not everything in life can be compacted to one hour episodes!

Someone asked me to explain House's comment ('Dr. Enterovirus') in an email. Anyway, it's an allusion to a bit of history. Back in 1871, Henry Stanley, a reporter for the New York Herald, was sent to Africa in search of Dr. David Livingston, a British missionary/explorer who had been missing for some years. Anyway, Stanley later wrote about his exchange with Dr. Livingston upon first seeing him – the famous phrase, 'Dr. Livingston, I presume?' The idea is that there were very few white people in Africa at the time so Stanley knew immediately whom he had found.

**Please review** - your comments are incredibly encouraging. Thank you!


	7. Unexpectedly

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement intended.

**Chapter 7: Unexpectedly**

Through the microscope Chase could see the viral growth, which had caused a cytopathic effect on the embryonic lung fibroblasts that he had cultivated. The cells were rounded and refractile and would eventually lyse. But as he carefully examined the neutralization assays and looked for the fluorescent stain, only half of Chase's mind was on the slide before him. The other half couldn't help but reflect on the closeness between Jesús and Carlos.

It was odd, how science and medicine were perceived to be objective and professional, and yet illness was at once something both so impersonal and personal. Despite his son's history of lying about medical illnesses, Carlos had brought Jesús in for check ups and doctor appointments regularly even for minor complaints. He must have been busy as a single working parent, but it was clear that he genuinely loved his kid. Rarer yet, he did so in a way that showed love – something that Chase simply didn't feel was really the case with many parents these days.

Oh, sure, parents spoiled their kids in outrageous ways. Expensive presents, big birthday parties, new cars, credit cards, and most of it had to do with money. Few people seemed to realize that affluence wasn't nearly an acceptable substitute for love. Or, they knew it and still did it anyway. As trite as the saying was, money could buy a lot, but some things were priceless. Jesús was pretty lucky, all in all. In the end, what he had in his father more than made up for his lack of material possessions.

It was a good thing, too, since Chase could see that it was definitely conxsackievirus B. Only, the findings also showed that his case was also something rare and 'extraordinary,' as House put it. He leaned down to double check his results before feeling the back of his neck prickle for seemingly no reason.

"Pleurodynia," House breathed into his ear just as he shrugged the feeling off and started messing with the viral culture. Biting back some few choice words, Chase jerked away, thankful that he had avoided any damage to the equipment or culture.

"Your attempts to make me choke don't exactly work," he said dryly to a rather childishly pleased House. "One of these days, you really need to learn when to give up. Anyway, we guessed it was pleurodynia before we did the tests."

"Unlucky Jésus," was the droll reply, before House looked at Chase, eyes gleaming. "Pop quiz. What do we do now, doctor?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Put him on NSAIDs for the pain and pleurisy?"

"Why make it into a question?"

His tone didn't fit his words. For some reason, House sounded much more _sincere_ than usual. Chase looked at him, wondering if there was some kind of reason, but the older doctor merely shrugged and left. That alone set off all the alarms in Chase's head, since in all the time he'd worked for House he couldn't recall a single moment when he'd felt as if House had given him, well, a pat on the back. He tried to shrug off the uncomfortable thought that it was almost paternal, tried not think of exactly how much he'd let House bend him to whatever the older doctor's will, if it meant he got approval in return. Surely he wasn't that desperate. He didn't go looking to any older authority figure for whatever he'd lacked from his father. But Chase couldn't be sure at all.

Cameron was acting weirdly, or at least secretively. Now it was House, and Chase couldn't think of any explanation for either person's behavior. Of course, it was just barely possible that maybe House was just in an exceptionally good mood.

Unfortunately, that left only Cameron for Chase to wonder about.

xxxxx

"So are you planning on watching me eat my entire lunch, or is there a particular reason why you're staring at me like that?" Wilson grumbled, slightly unnerved by House's unusual silence. He supposed it was just another variation of his 'let's try to annoy Wilson as much as possible for fun because I'm bored' schemes.

"Of course there's a reason, Wilson. I don't know if you've noticed, but for the last year and a half, I have been deeply, madly, truly in love with you," House said, widening his eyes and leaning forward until he was almost nose to nose with Wilson. "It's because your eyes are just _so_ captivating, and the way you chew your food is sublime. I think the most beautiful expression in the world is when your eyes get that slightly unfocused look—"

"Yes, yes, I love you too, House," Wilson interrupted hastily, brushing aside what House considered to be an Oscar-worthy performance. "Though God knows why. So can you please get to the point before Cuddy finds out you're missing and comes in here?"

"Don't you want to find out how Christ is doing?"

Wilson deliberately took another bite of his sandwich before responding. "Christ?"

"Yeah, otherwise known as the Boy Who Cried Wolf." House sighed when Wilson continued to look disinterested. "What do I have to do, kiss you or something? In case you care, treatment's going well with supportive management."

"What do you want, House?"

"Have you heard from a certain Aussie lung cancer consult recently?"

Slightly surprised, Wilson looked at House with raised eyebrows. "You know, there's this thing called doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm sure you've never heard about it, but it's rather important to good, law-abiding, trustworthy people."

"How conveniently boring for them," House retorted. "Their patients should totally get a 'My doctor is an Honor Student at Princeton Plains Plains-Borough Teaching Hospital' bumper sticker. The best thing is that it's long enough to take up the whole bumper. I can't wait to see one on the occasional Ferrari. So, Wilson, tell me."

"It's none of your business, House, unless you're having second thoughts about keeping your promise. It's his decision whether he wants to tell his son or not." Despite his warning tone, Wilson looked at House with new eyes. There was no reason for House to get involved—guilt wasn't a motivating factor when House was concerned.

"Well, it'd be nice if Cameron could get off her unhealthy fixation on 'fixing me,'" House said blithely. "She could go fix Chase."

"Let me think this through. You want Chase's father to die…so that Chase can be devastated…so that Cameron would have a new target for her concerns…so that you'd be let off the hook?" Wilson shook his head. "That's convoluted and rather low, even for you."

"I rather like my ducklings fully functional. Besides, a slight shove in both directions, and Chase and Cameron should collide fairly well, don't you think?"

Staring at House's bland, innocent expression, Wilson started laughing incredulously. "Are you serious? How did you go from dating her and being dumped to trying to set her up?"

"Soap operas are so much more interesting in real life," House pointed out. "What can I say, I got tired of watching it on-screen. All we really need is some skank to chase after Chase so that Cameron can get in a bitch fight with her. Oh, and you with pom-poms, cheering them on."

"House, are you high?"

"Maybe? Now, are you going to tell me or not?"

"Confidentiality," Wilson reminded him. "If you're so desperate to know, talk to him yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Some help you are," House grumbled. "Is it anytime soon?"

"House! He's a respected doctor, dying of cancer, don't you think you can be the least bit sensitive about it?"

House looked at Wilson for a moment, seemingly finally serious. "Okay, thanks for you help."

"Go away, O honorable matchmaker," Wilson said, smiling in response to House's glare. "And leave me to finish my lunch in peace."

It wasn't until House was almost at the door that Wilson realized something. "What do you mean, _thanks_? I didn't help you at all."

"He's 'dying of cancer' and you want me to be 'sensitive about it.' I give him two or three weeks, at most."

"What—?!" Wilson sputtered.

"Don't choke on your sandwich, Wilson. I tend to break ribs when I attempt the Heimlich." Since Wilson didn't respond, House stepped back into the office, neatly took the other half of the sandwich from Wilson's hand, and swept out before Wilson even realized what he had filched.

Wilson could only sigh at the brilliant, but sometimes brilliantly immature doctor that was ostensibly his best friend. He didn't really believe that House would have done all this if he wasn't somehow genuinely concerned about Chase, but the mystery was why. Out of the three, Wilson was a little surprised that Chase would merit the most attention from House. After all, Foreman was arguably the most logical and House-like, whereas House had actually dated Cameron, and Chase—well, House loved to play with Chase. Wilson just hoped that House wouldn't accidentally break his toy, if that was what Chase was to him. Of course, it almost seemed like House felt responsible, but maybe he was just reading too much into it, right?

xxxxx

Through the window Chase could see that Cameron was already speaking with the young patient and his father, no doubt assuring them in the sympathetic manner she was known for. They had rather carefully avoided each other during the day, although sometimes Chase could swear that he could feel Cameron's gaze on him, resting on him like some meditative weight. He could only guess what she was thinking.

It was funny, he was almost dreading this as if he were expecting a breakup speech, but they weren't together. Chase told himself he was going to ridiculous lengths. They were friends. Well, except he wasn't sure they could really call each other friends. But they weren't dating, because Cameron had made it clear that she wasn't interested—or had she?

"So, I guess it's close to case closed, for them," he said when she came out to stand with him.

"You should go in. He wants to thank you," Cameron told him.

Chase only shook his head slightly. "I'd rather not. Besides, I think he's perfectly happy spending time with his son."

"It's because of your father, isn't it?" she asked shrewdly. "It probably hits a little too close to home."

Chase tried to look bland when he turned to her, but Cameron seemed to read something in his expression that made her look as if she wished she could take her words back. "I know, it's none of my business," she said softly.

It was kind of an apology for prying, but it also sounded almost like a challenge to him, as if she were daring him to admit that if, _if_ they were friends, or if they were maybe more than that, he would refute her words. But he didn't speak because he didn't know what to say, and they continued watching Jesús and his father for a while before Cameron turned away.

"We should give them some privacy," she said. Chase didn't protest, even though neither of them had really had their attention on the people on the other side of the glass, and they couldn't have heard what was being said in the room anyway. He turned to her just as she turned to him, and their gazes met for a moment before they both looked away.

"Chase, don't you think we should talk?"

"Okay," he said. She turned toward him slightly at his indistinguishable tone, but he followed her as they headed back to the conference room. He couldn't help but remember that it was the exact place where she had argued with House. Was that where this whole mess started, or was it even before that? Once there, Cameron dropped into a chair while Chase leaned against the table, giving himself an excuse for not facing her too directly.

"So, maybe you want to tell me why you went to such lengths to make sure House knew that we slept together," he said evenly, trying to keep his growing anger out of his voice. "Or, whatever it was we did."

"Chase, it's not like that. I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

"There's a right way to take this?" He didn't bother to keep the sarcasm from his voice, and Cameron reached out to get his attention. Her grip on his wrist felt strange; Chase tried not to wonder if she could feel his rapid pulse.

"The sooner House realizes that he actually isn't jealous of me, the sooner he moves on, which is better for all of us. I shouldn't have tried to make a relationship out of it in the first place. Wilson even warned me, but I didn't care." She took a deep breath. "I should have told you before I did anything, but I didn't get the chance to."

"Wait, so let me get this straight. You're going to make him _not_ jealous of you by making him jealous of you, and you think you'll do this by using me?" He wanted to stay angry, but she was looking at him too intently, and Chase could feel that he was starting to slide from his superficial anger to hurt. She got up and started pacing, a nervous habit of hers that he knew.

"I wasn't using you—" she started.

"You were trying to manipulate House by pretending that we're together," he stated bluntly.

"Am I really pretending? Are _you_ pretending?" The moment the words left her mouth, Cameron stopped pacing, turning around to stare at him, looking almost as surprised as he felt.

Chase opened his mouth to deny it, not even sure what he was trying to deny, but nothing came out. The words hung between them. He hadn't even meant what he said; he knew that Cameron wasn't the kind of person to manipulate anyone.

"Chase…if I kissed you right now, right here, would it prove to you anything at all?" she whispered, coming close to him.

"And then what happens, Allison?"

"Does it matter? I don't know where this is going any more than you do, but if there's a chance, maybe it _is _right."

He was drawn inexorably closer to her, and she didn't give him a chance to reply. Cameron kissed him softly, gently. A tongue swept across his lips not to demand entrance, but to taste, to try. Chase almost shivered at the tender caress, so unlike any other kiss he'd exchanged, almost as if the promise in her words translated to action. He opened his mouth, his hand coming up to her neck, and Cameron murmured some noise in appreciation as their tongues met. It was more complicated than lust or love; it defied friendship and otherwise, but combined all of it into a quiet intensity that was intoxicating.

As quickly and unexpectedly as it had begun, the kiss ended. Chase breathed roughly, forgetting, for a moment, where he was. It was some consolation to see that Cameron was not unaffected, but she wasn't looking at him.

Chase followed her gaze to the person who had opened the door, which was not Foreman as he had assumed, but House, and then turned back to Cameron. His hands gripped her shoulders and he shook her, hard.

"You knew he was there," he accused her incredulously. "You kissed me, knowing that he was there."

"It doesn't matter, Chase! What he and I had, it's over." She tried to hold onto him in vain.

"And you had to show him, because somehow telling him wouldn't be enough? Let me ask you something. Are you using me to get back at House for some reason?"

For a moment her face looked stricken, but as Chase watched, realization flooded her eyes, along with the barest shadow of guilt. It was all he needed to see. Chase turned to go.

"Chase—just listen—"

"If you want him so much, go back to him," he said tonelessly. He could still taste her, could still feel her lips against his. "Don't involve me."

She started to say something else, following him toward the exit, but Chase firmly shut the door behind him. If he'd looked back, he would have seen a devastated Cameron through the clear, revealing glass. But Chase simply left. It was too much.

xxxxx

"The million dollar question: was that kiss for my benefit for not?" House asked Cameron, voice a little gentler than usual. She'd taken a seat at the table, head in her hands and clearly ignoring him, but House wasn't one to give up easily. He slid a manila folder across the table to her, which she didn't even look at.

"It didn't have anything to do with you," Cameron said at last without moving. Her voice was slightly muffled, but House was relieved to hear it. She wasn't crying, at least going by sound alone.

"I think I heard my name in there. You know, the part when Chase asked you whether you were using him to 'get back at House.' Unless I misheard, and he meant that you guys somehow need to get back a house you somehow lost."

"House, can't you just go away?"

"What, you had time to run in front of a truck for me, but you can't spare two seconds to talk to me?" His flippancy didn't quite cover the underlying concern.

"No, I can't," she answered shortly.

"Fine, I still have a gift for you." He reached out and pushed the manila folder even closer to her. "It's Chase's file."

"What?" Cameron looked up, revealing slightly red eyes, opened wide in moral outrage. "You stole his personal file?"

"No stealing needed," House reminded her. "There're some interesting things in it. If you read it, maybe you'll understand where he's coming from better..."

"I'm not going to read it, are you kidding me?" she exclaimed.

"He doesn't need to know you utterly invaded his privacy and fell off your ethical high chair," House pointed out calmly. "Take it or leave it. Everything's a copy, anyway."

"I'll just put it all through the shredder," she said, an edge to her voice. "I can't believe you would do this to him."

"_Moi_? I'm totally innocent in this, remember. You just found the file sitting on the table and took it, thinking that it was some misplaced patient history." House tapped his cane on the folder.

"Right, because it's labeled ROBERT CHASE, Jr."

"Reading it already, I see. Just try not to put my intensivist through the shredder. He's admittedly useful for keeping people alive until we finish trying all the cool new treatments." House whispered the last part as if he were confiding a great secret. He left before Cameron could say more.

She took the file and put it with the rest of her notes, then grabbed her things, making her way to the parking lot. She was at her customary parking spot before she realized that her car was still at the auto shop being fixed. With a sigh, she pulled out her cell phone and began mentally going through her friends numbers, trying to think who would be free to give her a ride back.

Slow footsteps approached her from behind and she looked to see the last person she would have expected. Cameron thought that Chase had left already, but evidently he hadn't. He looked a little worse for wear, but then again, so did she.

"You need a ride, right?" He shook the keys in his hand and she followed him to his car, the desire to get home and think about what all happened (and maybe cry over it, a little) warring with the hurt from knowing that she'd changed things between them, and they couldn't go back.

Chase held the car door open for her and she got in, wondering if she could explain and if he was ready to hear her out. "Chase?"

"Don't," he said, and that was it. The ride back was silent, without even the reprieve of the radio, and she could almost swear that she could hear his breathing. Cameron wondered if he'd left before he'd remembered about her car, wondered if he came back, or if he'd been sitting alone or something.

He dropped her off and left, but at least not before they'd exchanged goodbyes. She just wished it didn't have such a final note to it.

xxxxx

A/N: Over the last six months, I had exactly two chances to see House. During the first chance, former President Ford passed away, so they stopped to do special news reports. During the second chance, I watched House for about ten minutes before my TV lost reception (how?!) and blanked the screen. Forty minutes later, it decided to come back to life just in time for me to see Chase and Cameron get caught making out in a storage closet. I think there have to be forces working against the completion (or even progression) of this story or something.

Anyway, **please review**. If you'd like another take on CC, check out my new one-shot, _Synthesis_. I don't know, I'm just so discouraged for this story, even though I've outlined the whole thing and have a lot roughly written out (and there's 8 chapters left, so I'm at the halfway point). Does anyone want to read this, now that you can get your Chase and Cameron fix straight off the new House episodes? Is this chapter as crappy as I thought it was when I was writing it? Is this story even worth continuing? Okay, yeah, I'm writing questions to myself. I'll shut up now. To all the people who've read and reviewed so far, I really thank you.


	8. Friendly

**Intense**

—_passionate in emotion, thought, or activity;_ _occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc._—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement intended.

A/N: It's been a long time since I updated so if you guys are just getting back to this story, it might be helpful to skim through the last chapter to remind you of what's going on. Hopefully there're still some of you guys around, or maybe new readers. On a total side note, the last episode ("Don't Ever Change") is my favorite from this season. It played out suspiciously like a HouseWilson fangirl's dream and the Chase love was a nice bonus too, though I dearly miss House's original team. As usual, please keep in mind that this story was created at the beginning of season two and reflects events only up until that point.

**Chapter 8: Friendly**

Three days and one case later, Cameron found herself asking herself the same exact question for the thousandth time since she had been accepted onto House's team.

Why House?

So she had wanted the position for the prestige, the pay, and of course the chance to work with one of the best. So she had valid, common reasons, backed up by the fact that she hadn't been fazed by House's non-medical reputation. From the very beginning, she had been drawn to this particular doctor, even when she knew logically that while House was good, while House was even amazing, he was really only one of the best. This necessarily implied that there were others who she could have wanted, who were also some of the best, who had wanted her and would have treated her better. So, indeed, why House?

Originally, her reasoning had all been about the medicine, about things like career advancement, specialization, experience. Something during the interview she had with House had provoked her, though, the same kind of something that had made her want to go into diagnostics in the first place. House was a challenge, one she knew wouldn't be easy, and that had somehow factored its way into everything. It explained somewhat why she put up with him even when it seemed almost masochistic to do so.

After all, the unknown was really just the not yet known, not the unknowable.

Diagnostic immunology was all about techniques that relied on the specificity of the bond between antibodies and antigens. That was what made it so well-suited for the detection of even the smallest of amounts of biochemical substances. Recognition of an antigen by an antibody tagged it for attack by other parts of the immune system, which would neutralize foreign objects such as bacteria and viruses. Immunology was bitter war on a miniature scale, molecule against molecule, and identification of the enemy was a crucial first step in any war.

If she thought about House in the terminology of her field, Cameron reflected, he would definitely be the antigen that was provoking her defensive responses. Despite knowing full well the tension between Chase and herself, and despite being partially responsible for causing it, he deliberately threw them together as much as possible.

The past three days were those of constant irritation over her own broken arm, which hindered her ability to do even simple tasks just enough that she felt useless. Aside from her contributions to the differential diagnoses, Cameron, by default, became the gopher who ran around getting test results back and taking care of the paperwork side of things.

House and his team had been occupied with a case of suspected acute asthma exacerbation which had turned out to be aspergillosis. Despite the demands of the work, there was still quite enough time for Cameron to thoroughly contemplate her failures—as a doctor, as a woman, as a friend, and even her failure as just a decent, moral human being.

Why House?

All attempts at identification of the problem led back to this question. She had to admit that she didn't have any feelings for him in the romantic sense any more, so then why had she so stupidly involved herself, House, and Chase in such an awkward situation? Unlike her female friends, she had never been one for causing drama, either intentionally or otherwise.

Diagnosis, definition 1: The recognition of a disease or condition by its outward signs and symptoms.

Diagnosis: definition 2: The analysis of the underlying physiological/biochemical causes of a disease or condition.

House had injured her pride when they had broken up, however briefly their relationship had lasted in the first place, but that wasn't the underlying cause. She had kissed Chase knowing House was there but not _because_ House was there.

The worst part was that Chase had every right to be mad at her and yet he didn't seem to be. He was just distant, inattentive, and it was all only to her personally, not in any other way. Their professional relationship was still better than most; they worked well as a team. It was just that she hadn't realized how much those little things had mattered to her, like the way he would remind her in various ways that he was there, or the way he would show that he appreciated her, as a friend or otherwise.

It would have been easier to take his anger than his disappointment, and it would have been easier to take disappointment than to have nothing at all.

Between all of this, Cameron knew. Somehow the question had changed from "Why House?" to "Why Chase?"

xxxxx

The 19 year old patient hadn't been the biggest of challenges. He had been diagnosed with asthma as a baby but had never had problems with it until a few weeks before he ended up in the hospital. Within a week, he had presented to the ER no less than five times, presumably because of acute asthma exacerbation. All the symptoms, such as shortness of breath and near syncope fit with asthma. While it was unusual that he had an elevated white count with 50 eosinophils, it was also explained away by asthma exacerbation.

The poor guy had ended up in House's gleeful hands. At first, the team had gotten sidetracked with the discovery that he had given his girlfriend a flying squirrel for a pet about a month prior to the hospital admission, especially since the squirrel was from southeast Asia. In the end, Occam's Razor was the principle to keep in mind.

Fortunately for the patient but unfortunately for House, the case turned out to be a fairly straightforward one of allergic bronchopulmonary aspergillosis, or ABPA. The diagnosis had been made and confirmed by a culture rather than some intuitive leap of insight; the simplest solution was the best. Cuddy was delighted and House was most definitely not. The fungal infection was rare, but the asthma had made the patient more susceptible to it. While House was somewhat mollified that he finally got a genuine case of aspergillosis, the patient hadn't been interesting in any other way and House could have treated aspergillosis in his sleep.

Cameron ended up in the conference room with the other two, but with House thankfully absent, having been persuaded into doing his clinical rounds by Cuddy's intensively disapproving glare. Foreman turned to her, clearly almost as bothered by the uncomfortable politeness between his colleagues as they themselves were, but much more free to express it.

"What's going on?"

Cameron willed herself to calmness and was gratified that her voice was smooth when she spoke, although her answer might have been a heartbeat or two later than normal. "Are you talking about the patient or something else?"

"What do you think I'm talking about?" Foreman asked. The look in his eye was slightly annoyed, slightly sympathetic. "So then, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, injecting a faint hint of surprise into her tone, as if questioning why he would even ask. Immediately, she realized how futile it was. She turned away, unsure of her control over her expression and thinking that the smile on her face might have looked a little too plastic.

"Okay, let me clarify. I really don't care what's going on, but I do hope that _nothing _gets resolves soon," Foreman said bluntly.

Cameron debated telling him to mind his own business, but she would have to look at Foreman to effectively do so, and she was unnerved suddenly by the fear that Chase was looking at her, right now, even as she kept her eyes on the papers beneath her pen.

"You could ask Chase." Cameron saw Foreman's grimace and felt slightly vindicated, but it would have been better if he hadn't brought up the subject at all. Now Chase was tense, his whole posture stiff with disgust that felt to Cameron as if it were offensively aimed at the both of them.

Foreman shouldn't have had to ask any questions at all. House was a disease of a rare and sophisticated form, and the sufferers could all too easily identify the progressive symptoms in others. But this, of course, only satisfied one definition of diagnosis.

Cameron ignored the other two and turned back to the paperwork, but when she left the stifling room for her break, she let herself succumb to the invisible pressure that she was fairly sure only she felt. The only good thing about her broken arm was that now she could use it as her excuse, backed up by her healing bruises, which were a spectacular yellow-purplish-blue. Cuddy okayed her early departure and Cameron left without saying goodbye to House or the others, her tolerance for dealing with them at a vanishing point.

Unfortunately, House had always had some special ability that often made him seem to be as omnipresent as God, at least in the hospital.

xxxxx

Three days and one case later, House had too much time on his hands. He left Foreman to monitor the patient's vitals, noted that Cameron made a not-so-secretive visit to Cuddy, and sent Chase off to clinic duty in his place. The problem with Wilson's metaphor of the ducklings, House mused, was that it implied that he should be cast in the mother duck role. He would have preferred to be the annoying dog chasing the fuzzy yellow ducklings into the pond. Wilson was a better mother duck, but a small part of House admitted that his team had grown on him. So, since he most definitely wasn't the sort to be kind and nurturing, he simply had to apply his own methods in caring for his wayward team.

He intercepted Cameron in the hallway and noted that she already had her lab coat off, as if she couldn't wait to rid herself of that symbol of doctordom, the implied knowledge and authority of the physician. Cameron looked not so much surprised as resigned when he fell in step with her, deliberately waiting a few extra steps before he so much as spoke.

"Suffering from white coat hypertension, Dr. Cameron?" He grimaced at her fatigued appearance as if in sympathy. The words took longer than they should have to sink in but once they did, Cameron's countenance became slightly strained. House gestured to the general hospital around them. "You would think that spending so much money to make this _not _look like a clinical setting would cut down on the phenomenon."

"What's your point, House?" Clearly, Cameron was in no mood to appreciate his wit.

"Or is the anxiety caused not by the clinical setting but by the presence of certain doctors? I've always been curious about what a white coat effect would be for doctors rather than patients. Maybe they'd exhibit decreased blood pressure instead of elevated levels since the hospital's just like home to them."

"House, I'm leaving," Cameron snapped, walking faster. "Go back and harass the people in the waiting room, or go play with Wilson."

House lifted one shoulder half-heartedly in a shrug, stopping abruptly so that Cameron instinctively stopped as well. She turned to face him with a nearly murderous expression, miffed that she had fallen for his trick. House simply smiled with his best innocent expression. "Can I tell him you suggested it?"

"Better yet, take a couple of pictures and send them to Chase," she suggested acidly, and then looked as if she regretted involving the person in her retort. House let it slide since she looked as if a gentle push would send her tumbling.

"Read the file, Cameron. I know you still have it."

She gave him a dark look and then firmly ignored him as she opened the door and walked out. House whistled cheerfully as he made his way back to his office, slightly feeling the same things he did after diagnosing one of his patients—a mixture of smugness and relief at being undeniably right.

xxxxx

"You like her," Wilson commented, and let it hang like that, not quite a statement but not quite a question. House chose to answer it anyway.

"Of course I like her. I wouldn't keep her otherwise."

"She's not a pet, House."

"I never said she was. _You _implied that she was just now."

"All right. You like her, so why did you end it? It wasn't a matter of screwing up, House, I know you too well for that. You decided when you went into it that you would end it, so why go into it in the first place?"

"Why watch Cuddy when you know she's not the least bit interested in you?" House shot back.

"Because she's—" Wilson cut himself off and narrowed his eyes at House. "There," he finished. "That's totally different, House. You don't agree to be with someone just because they like you. You're not that considerate."

"But she is, isn't she? She's too good. Too ethical, too soft, too caring," House paused. "Possibly too much like you, but without someone like me to tone down that idealism. She wants to heal the world, one person at a time, and I'm on the top of her list."

"So you dated her because she was interested in you and then you dumped her because you think she's not interested in you?" Wilson's skeptic tone pointedly ignored House's criticism of him.

"Cameron wants to heal Chase now," House pointed out, something like disdain but possibly pity in his voice. "Whatever's going on is between the two of them. I get to sit back and watch the fireworks."

"You really find them that fascinating?"

"Why else do little girls put Ken and Barbie together?" asked House nonchalantly.

"They grow up to find out that Ken and Barbie divorced," Wilson retorted. "You've been bringing up Chase and Cameron every time I see you, House. It's not like you. You haven't even said anything about the last case you had."

House gave an exaggerated yawn. "That's because it was an open and shut case of aspergilliosis. The only thing cool about it was the flying squirrel and that had nothing to do with it. Anyway, Cameron is about to find out about Dr. Rowan Chase."

"She _what_? House, did it ever occur to you that I ranted about patient-doctor confidentiality the _last _time you asked about Rowan Chase because it's important? If he wanted Chase to know, he would have told him himself. But no, you just went ahead and told his son's non-official girlfriend that, by the way, if it ever came to marriage she never has to worry about the father in law. What the hell were you thinking?"

Wilson was definitely pissed, but House was used to Wilson being pissed. "I'll diagnose Cameron while you shut up and listen. Cameron is the kind of person you hate for trying, but can't help but care when she gradually stops. You despise her for hoping, so then your disappointment is all the more bitter in the end because you realize that you were hoping. But to a person who's already given up long ago, there's nothing better than someone who absolutely refuses to give up."

Wilson stared at House for a long moment as if to examine the sincerity of the blue eyes looking steadily at him, and then sighed. "House, that's either the dumbest or most insightful thing that's ever come out of your mouth, but I have a diagnosis for you, too. Give up your games, stop treating your team like your patients, just…give up. You're like a child who doesn't realize that there's a breaking point to your favorite toys if you play too much with them."

"Little girls put Ken and Barbie together," House said nonchalantly.

"And grow up to find out that Ken and Barbie divorced," Wilson retorted. "Are you seriously comparing yourself to a child and

"You never know, they might be better off," House said, to Wilson's chagrin.

xxxxx

There was a message on her answering machine when she got home and Cameron stood in front of it, looking blankly at the blinking red light for a moment before she even reacted. She hadn't gone straight home after leaving the hospital, knowing that she had left Chase's file there and feeling provoked by House's last demand that she read it. It was probably House again, calling to add to her misery. For a moment Cameron contemplated directly erasing it, but she was too punctilious for that. She let it play.

Beep. "Allison, it's Chase."

The distinctive Australian accent she secretly liked so much; she only knew one person that spoke like that. _It's Chase. _As if she could ever mistake him for anyone else. There was a pause of a few seconds before the message continued, during which Cameron could have sworn, contrary to her medical knowledge, that her heart utterly stopped for a prolonged moment before it resumed beating, but shakily.

"I'm calling to let you know that I'm covering for you tomorrow morning, so you don't need to come in. Cuddy already okayed it and told me that you'd left. Get some rest."

The answering machine continued and Cameron automatically replayed the message, listening to it as if it were a code she had to decipher, finding it hard to take in the words. The brief hope that she'd had flickered, died, and then revived as her mind busily sorted through different strands of thought.

Her pessimistic first assumption was that Chase didn't want her at the hospital because he, like her, couldn't stand their working, perfectly professional relationship any more. It had to be as stressful for him as it was for her, but Chase had experience, didn't he? It wasn't like he hadn't been hiding the depth of his interest for her. She hadn't realized until recently that their relationship had never felt strictly like a friendship because even then she had sensed something different from him.

Maybe it was a peace offering, Cameron thought, a way to quickly make up or at least pretend to smooth things over without actually resolving anything. Both of them had a vested interest to drop the matter. Both Chase's gesture and his ambiguous motives caused a welter of confused feelings in her. It showed he still cared and was still caring for her, but he was still putting distance between them.

He could have called her cell phone. He could have added a goodbye or otherwise softened the brusqueness of his last words, and yet the concern made her ache with the certain knowledge that Chase wasn't so much angry at her as hurt by her.

The innocent looking manila mocked her from where she had placed it on the countertop. She didn't understand how Chase could be so forgiving of her or why he liked her as much as he evidently did. Neither did she understand how her feelings for House could have disappeared as if they had never been more than an immature crush, or when Chase had increasingly become important to her. He had always seemed to be the opposite of House, undemanding and doing what was necessary in the background, like keeping the patient alive until the right diagnosis was made.

It used to bother her how Chase did whatever House asked, as if he either didn't care or was simply that yielding. But the more she got to know Chase, the more she realized it wasn't as simple as it appeared. Cameron always tried to understand House, Foreman always argued with him, and somehow, in some way, Chase trusted House. Then he had watched her date House.

The temptation to skim Chase's information was maddening, particularly so because she knew she would never have even been tempted if she had gotten, say, Foreman's file instead. A tiny part of Cameron knew that she could have gotten rid of the file before now if she had really wanted to.

With a sigh, Cameron flipped open the innocent looking manila folder and took out the surprisingly thick pages, strengthening her resolve not to actually look at the information. She had one of those cheap shredders that topped out at five to six sheets and had problems with staples if she tried to feed it thicker files. Some of these were virtual packets, so she started taking them apart. After the shredder ate up the first few pages, it became easier.

"Take that, House," she said under her breath, trying not to wonder why he was so insistent that she read the file. She readied another packet and was about to feed it to the shredder before her hand froze. Despite herself, she yanked it back, dropping the remainder of the file and not even bothering to pick it up.

She had seen these papers countless times, the exact format. They were in Wilson's office, they were in the top drawer of her dresser, where she kept all the mementoes of her dead husband, including the medical history that detailed the stages of his cancer.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her eyes went unerringly to the top of the page, where there was an informally scrawled _Chase, R. _in photocopied sharpie. At a glance, the rest of the chart was carefully filled in with Wilson's writing. She flipped through the pages to the end with numb hands. There were MRI's, more charts, all the details of a consult with a specialist.

Stage IV metastatic non-small cell carcinoma of the lung.

Her mind effortlessly translated it. No one needed to go through medical school to know what it meant. Terminal. The one terrifying word, and even more terrifying, the carefully compiled statistics of living past a year.

Cameron looked at the scattered papers on the floor, the top one clearly a recommendation letter for Chase, and felt her eyes fill with tears from sheer reaction. She wasn't crying, it was too immediate and too unreal, but her mind was turning over each day she had seen Chase, rewinding past all the times and trying to see the signs.

They had been together so much. It didn't make sense, it couldn't be right simply for the reason that he couldn't have hidden something like this from her. Denial wanted to burst out of her, screaming that this was too cruel and for that fact alone it should be impossible, but she was alone and there was nothing to refute but the papers in front of her, and they laid out precise evidence.

It wasn't until she returned to the first page that Cameron felt the breath knocked out of her again, and understood through a haze of relief and fear why House had wanted her to read this and had gone to the trouble of putting this in Chase's file when the patient information clearly stated Rowan Chase. Cameron picked up the scattered papers on the floor and shredded them all without having the slightest desire to look at Chase's background, psych evaluation, or education and past employment history. He wasn't going to die, but his father was.

She called Chase.

xxxxx

A/N: Please review! The response I've gotten for this chapter is really disproportionate from the other chapters, so if there's something you didn't like about this chapter particularly, let me know. I'm always trying to improve, but feedback tells me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Thanks!


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